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Copyright, 189S, 
By Roberts Brothers. 



John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, U.S. A. 






MISS FEEEIER'S NOVELS.' 



In November 1854 ihere dîed in Edinburgh one wlio 
might^ with tra1;îh, be called almost the last, if not the 
last^ of tbat literarj galazy that adomed Edinbuigh 
Society in the days of Scott, Jeffrey, Wilson, and 
other& Distinguished by the friendship and confid- 
ence of Sir Walter Scott, the name of Susan Edmon- 
stone Ferrier is one that bas become famous from her 
three cleyer, satirical, and most amusing novels of 
Mamage^ The Inheriicmcey and Destiny. They exhibit^ 
besides, a keen sensé of the ludicrous ahnost un- 
equalled. She may be said to hâve done for Scotland 
what Jane Austen and Maria Edgeworth hâve respect- 
ively done for England and Ireland — ^left portraits, 
painted in undying colours, of men and women that 
will live for ever in the hearts and minds of her 
readers. In the présent redimdant âge of novel- 
writers and novel-readers, and when one woold sup- 
pose the supply must far exceed the demand from 
the amount of puérile and often at the same tûne 
prurient literature in the department of fiction that 

^ Beprinted from the TempU Bcvr Magazine for November 1878. 
VOL. L B K 



'irz 




2 MISS ferriek's noyels. 

daily flows from the press, ît is refreshing to tum to 
the \dgorous and, above ail," healthy moral tone of 
this lady's works. To the présent génération they 
are as if they had never been, and to the question, 
"Did you ever read Marriage?" it is not uncommon 
in thèse times to get such an answer as, " No, never. 
Who wrote it V " Miss Ferrier." " I never heard of 
her or her novels." It is with the view, therefore, 
of enlightening such beûighted ones that I pen the 
following pages. 

Miss Ferrier was the f ourth and youngest daughter 
of James Ferrier, Writer to the Signet, and was bom 
at Edinburgh, 7th of September 1782. Her father 
was bred to that profession in the office of a distant 
relative, Mr. Archibald Campbell of Succoth (great- 
grandf ather of the présent Archbishop of Canterbury). 
To his valuable and extensive business, which included 
the management of ail the Argyll estâtes, he ultimately 
succeeded. He was admitted as a member of the 
Society of Writers to the Signet in the year 1770. 
He was also appointed a Principal Clerk of Session 
through the influence (most strenuously exerted) of 
his friend and patron, John, fifth Duke of Argyll,^ 
and was a colleague in that office with Scott He 

^ To this nobleman, in his later years, Mr. Ferrier devoted 
much of his time, both at Inveraray and Boseneath. He died 
in 1806. His Duchess was the lovely Elizabeth Gunning. Mr. 
Ferrier died at 25 Geoige Street, Edinburgh, January 1829, 
aged eighty-six. Sir Walter Scott attended his funeral. After 
his death Miss Ferrier removed to a smaller house, in Nelson 
Stre«t 



MISS ferrier's novels. 3 

also numbered among his frîends Henry Mackenzie, 
the " Man of Feeling," Dr. Hugh Blair, and last, 
though not least, Bums the poet His father, John 
Ferrier, had been in the same office till his marriage 
with Grizzel, only daughter and heiress of Sir Walter 
Sandilands Hamilton, Bart, of Westport, county 
Linlithgow.^ John Ferrier was the last Laird of 
Kirklands, county Renfrew, subsequently sold to Lord 
Blantyre. Mr. James Ferrier was the third son of 
his parents, and was bom 1744.^ Miss Ferrier was 
in the habit of frequently visiting at Inveraray Castle 
in Company with her father, and while there had 
ample opportunity afforded her of studying fashion- 
able life in ail its varied and caprîcious moods, and 
which hâve been preserved to posterity in her admir- 
able delineations of character. Her reason for becom- 
ing an authoress is from her own pen, as follows, and 
is entitled a préface to The Inheritance : — 

^ Sir Walter's father, Walter Sandilands of Hilderston, a 
cadet of the Torphichen family (his father was commonly styled 
Tator of Calder), assnmed the name of Hamilton on his mar- 
riage with the heiress of Westport 

" His brothers were-: William, who assnmed the name of 
Hamilton on succeeding his grandfather in the Westport estate. 
He was in the navy, and at the captnre of Québec, where 
he assisted the sailors to drag the cannon up the heights of 
Abraham ; m. Miss Johnstone of Straiton, co. Linlithgow ; died 
1814. Walter ; m. Miss Wallace of Caimhill, co. Ayr, father 
of the late Colonel Ferrier Hamilton of Cairnhill and Westport. 
Hay, major-general in the army ; m. first Miss Macqueen, nièce 
of Lord Brazfield, second, Mrs. Cutlar of Orroland, co. Kirk- 
eadbright. He was Goyemor of Dumbarton Castle, and died 
there 1824. 



4 mss ferrieb's novsls. 

" An introduction had been reqnested for the first of 
thèse three works, Mamage; but while the author was 
considering what could be said for an already thrice-told 
taie, it had passed through the press with such rapidity 
as to outstrîp ail considération. Indeed, what can be said 
for any of them amounts to so littie, it is scarcely worth 
saying at alL The first waâ begun at the urgent désire 
of a fdend, and with the promise of assistance, which, how- 
ever, falled long before the end of the first volume ; the 
work was then thrown aside, and resumed some yeaiB 
after.^ It afforded occupation and amusement for idle 
and solitary hours, and was published in the belief that 
the author's name never would be guessed at, or the work 
heard of beyond a very limited sphère. ' Ce n'est que le 
premier pas qu'il coûte' in novel-writing, as in carrying 
one's head in thelr hand ; The Inheritance and Degtkiy 
followed as matters of course. It bas been so offcen and 
confidentiy asserted that almost ail the characters are 
individual portraits, that the author haB littie hope of 
being believed when she asserts the contrary. That some 
of them were sketched from life is not denied ; but the 
cîrcumstances in which they are placed, their birth, habits, 
language, and a thousand minute particulars, difier so 
widely from the originals as ought to réfute the charge of 
personality. With regard to the introduction of religiouA 
sentiment into works of fiction, there exista a différence 
of opinion, which, in the absence of any authoritative 
command, leaves each free to act according to their own 
feelings and opinions. Yiewing this life merely as the 
prélude to another state of existence, it does seem strange 
that the future should ever be wholly excluded from 
any représentation of it, even in its motiey occurrences, 
scarcely less motiey, perhaps, than the human mind itsel£ 
The author can only wish it had been her province to 
hâve ndsed plants of nobler growth in the wide field of 

^ It nnderwent several changes before its final publication in 
1818 



HISS FEBRIEB'S NOYELa 6 

Christian liteiature ; but as siicli has not been her high 
calling, she hopes her ' small herbs of grâce ' may, with- 
out offence, be allowed to put forth their blossoms amongst 
the briais, weeds, and wild flowers of life's common path. 
« Edinburgh, A^ 1 840." . 

The friend ou whose assistance she relîed was Miss 
Clavering, daughter of Lady Augusta Glavering, and 
nièce of the late Duke of ArgylL Between this lady 
and our author au early frieudship ezisted, which 
was severed only by deatL It commenced in 1797, 
when Miss Femer lost her mother,^ and when she 

^ Mrs. Ferrier {née Coutts) was the daughter of a &rmer at 
Gourdon, near Montrose. She waa very amiable, and possessed 
of great personal beauty, as is attested by her portrait by Sir 
George Ohalmers, Bart., in a fancy dress, and painted 1765. At 
the time of her marriage (1767) she resided at the Abbey of 
Holyrood Palace with an aunt, the Honourable Mrs. Maitland, 
widow of a yoanger son of Lord Lauderdale's, who had been 
left in poor circumstances, and had charge of the apartments 
there belonging to the Argyll family. After their marriage 
Mr. and Mrs. Ferrier occupled a flat in Lady Stair*s Close (Old 
Town of Edinburgh), and which had just been vacated by Sir 
James Pulteney and his wife Lady Bath. Ten children were 
the finit of this union (six sons and four daughters), viz. — 

1. John, W.S., of 12 York Place, Edinburgh, d. 1851 ; nu 
Miss Wilson, sister of Professor Wilson, and father of the late 
Professer Ferrier of St Andrews, N.B. 

2. Archibald Campbell, W.S., d. 1814; m. Miss Garden. 
8. Lom, d. 1801, at Demerara. 

4. James, d. in India, 1804. ) p ^ officera. 

5. William Hamilton, d. 1804, in India. ) 

6. Walter, W.S., d. 1856 ; m. Miss Gordon. 
- 7. Jane (Mrs. Graham), d. 1846. 

8. Janet (Mrs. Connell), d. 1848. 

9. Helen (Mrs. Einloch), d. 1866, at Torquay, aged 90l 
10, Susan Edmonstone. 



6 MISS fekriek's novbls. 

went witli her father to Inveraray Castle she was then 
fifteen, and her friend only eight Miss Clavering 
became the wife of Mr. Miles Fletcher, advocate, but 
was better known in later years as Mrs. Christison. 
She inherited ail the natural élégance and beauty of 
face and form for which her mother, and aunt Lady 
Charlotte Campbell, were so distinguished, and died 
at Edinburgh, 1869, at an advanced âge. While con- 
cocting the story of her first novel. Miss Ferrier 
writes to her friend in a lively and sprightly vein : — 

" Your proposais flatter and delight me, but how in 
the name of Postage are we to transport our brains to 
and fro ? I suppose we*d be pawning our flannel petti- 
coats to bring about our heroine's marriage, and lyiug on 
straw to give her Christian buriaL Part of your plot I 
like much, some not quite so well — ^for example, it wants 
a moral — ^your principal characters are good and interest- 
ing, and they are tormented and persecuted and punished 
from no fault of their own, and for no possible purpose. 
Now I don't think, like ail penny-book manufacturers, 
that 'tis absolutely necessary that the good boys and girls 
should be rewarded and the naughty ones punished. Yet 
I think, where there is much tribulatiou, *tis fitter it 
should be the conséquence rather than the catLse of miscon- 
duct or frailty. You'll say that rule is absurd, inasmuch 
as it is not observed in human life : that I allow, but we 
know the inflictions of Providence are for wise purposes, 
therefore our reason willingly submits to them. But as 
the only good purpose of a book is to inculcate morality 
and convey some lesson of instruction as well as delight, 
I do not see that what is caUed a good moral can be dis- 
pensed with in a work of fiction. Another fault is your 
making your hero attempt suicide, which is greatly too 
shocking, and destroys ail the interest his misfortunea 



MISS ferrier's novels. 7 

would otherwise excite — that, towever, could be easily 
altered, and in other respects I think yonr plot has great 
merit. You'll perhaps be displeased at the freedom of 
my remarks ; but in the first place freedom is absolutely 
necessary in the cause in which we are about to embark, 
and it must be nnderstood to be one if not the chief article 
of our creed. In the second (though it should hâve been 
the ôrst), know that I always say what I think, or say 
nothing. Now as to my own deeds — I shall make no 
apologies (since they must be banished from our code of 
laws) for sending you a hasty and imperfect sketch of 
what I think might be wrought up to a tolerable form. 
I do not recollect ever to hâve seen the sudden transition 
of a high-bred English beauty,^ who thinks she can sacri- 
fice ail for love, to an uncomfortable solitary Highland 
dwelling^ among tall red-haired sisters and grim-faced 
aunts. Don't you think this would make a good opening 
of the pièce ? Suppose each of us try our hands on it ; 
the moral to be deduced from that is to warn ail young 
ladies against runaway matches, and the character and 
fate of the two sisters would be uneocceptionahle, I expect 
it will be the first book every wise matron will put into 
the hand of her daughter, and even the reviewers will 
lelax of their severity in favour of the morality of this 
little work. Ënchanting sight ! already do I behold my- 
self arrayed in an old mouldy covering, thumbed and 
creased and fîUed with dogs'-ears. I hear the ënchanting 
Sound of some sentimental miss, the shrill pipe of some 
antiquated spinster, or the hoarse grumbling of some 
incensed dowager as they severally inquire for me at the 
circulating library, and are assured by the master that 
*tis in such demand that though he has thirteen copie» 

^ Lady Juliana. 

^ Glenfem. Dunderawe Castle, on Loch Fyne, was in Miss 
Ferrier's mind when she drew this sketch of a "solitary High- 
land dweUing." 



8 MISS ferrier's novels. 

they are insufficient to answer the calls upon it, but that 
each of them may dépend upon having the very first that 
cornes in ! ! ! Child, child, you had need be sensible of 
the value of my correspondence. At this moment l'm 
squandering mines of wealth upon you when I might be 
dïawing treasures from the bags of time 1 But I shall 
not repine if you'll only repay me in kind — speedy and 
long is ail that I require ; for ail things else I shall take 
my chance. Though I hâve been so impertinent to your 
book, I nevertheless hope and expect you'll send it to me. 
Comble^ and his daughter (or Mare, as you call her) are 
coming to town about this time, as l'm informed, and you 
may easily contrive to catch them (wild as they are) and 
send it by them, for there's no judging what a picture 
will be like from a mère pen-and-ink outline — ^if that 
won't do, is there not a coach or a carrier ? One thing 
let me entreat of you : if we engage in this undertaking, 
let it be kept a profound secret from every human being. 
If I was suspected of being accessory to such foui deeds, 
my brothers and sisters would murder me, and my father 
bury me alive — and I hâve always observed that if a 
secret ever goes beyond those immediately concemed in its 
concealment it vety soon ceases to be a secret." 

Agaîn 8he writes to her friand and copartner in 
her literary work : — 

**I am boiling to hear from you, but Fve taken a 
lemorse of conscience about Lady Maclaughlan and her 
friends : if I was ever to be detected, or even suspected, I 
would hâve nothing for it but to drown mysell I mean, 
therefore, to let her alone tîll I hear from you, as I think 
we might compound some other kind of character for her 
that might do as well and not be so dangerous. As to 
the misses, if ever it was to be published they must be 
•Itered or I must fly my native land." 

^ Campbell of Combie, 



MISS FEBBIEB'S K07EL8. 9 

Miss Clayering writes in answer : — 

" Abdenoaplb Castlb, Sunday Morning. 

** First of ail I must tell you that I approve in the 
most signal manner of Lady MaclaugMan. The sort of 
character was totally unexpected by me, and I was really 
transported with her. Do I know the person who is the 
original ? The dress was vastly like Mrs. Damer, ^ and 
the manners like Lady Frederick. ^ Tell me if you did 
not mean a touch at her. I love poor Sir Sampson 
vastly, though it is impossible, in the présence of his lady, 
to hâve eyes or ears for any one else. Now you must not 
think of altering her, and it must ail go forth in the 
World ; neither must the misses upon any account be 
changed. I hâve a way now of at least offering it to 
publication by which you never can be discovered. I 
will tell the person that I wrote it (indeed, quothà, cries 
Miss Ferrier, and no great favour ; see how she loves to 
plume herself with borrowed famé I). Well, however, 
my way is quite sure, and the person would never think 
of speaking of it again, so never let the idea of détection 
corne acrossyour brain while you are writing to damp 
your ardour. 

" Positively neither Sir Sampson's lady nor the foolish 
virgins must be displaced" 

Again she writes from Inveraray Castle (of date 
December 1810), eight years before the work was 
published : — 

^ Daughter of General Seymour Conway, and a distmgaîshed 
sculptor. She was nièce of the fifth Duke of ArgyU. 

' Lady Frederick Campbell is believed to hâve suggested the 
character of Lady Maclaughlan to Miss Ferrier, and there is 
little doubt she wàs the original. She was the widow of Earl 
Ferrers, of Tybum notoriety, and was bumt to death at Coomb« 
Bank, Kenl^ in 1807. 



10 MISS ferrier's noyels. 

" And now, my dtar Susannab, I imist tell you of the 
success of your first-bom. I read it to Lady Charlotte ^ 
in the carriage when she and I came together from Axden- 
eaple, Bessîe ^ haviug gone with mamma. If you will 
believe, I never yet in my existence saw Lady C. langh 
80 much as she did at that from beginning to end ; and, 
seriously, I was two or three times afraid that she would 
fall into a fit Her very words were, *I assure you I 
think it without the least exception the deverest thing 
that ever was written, and in wit far surpassing Fielding.' 
Then she said as to our other books they would ail sink 
to nothingness before yours, that they were not fit to be 
mentioned in the saine day, and that she felt quite dis- 
couraged from whting when she thought of yours. The 
whole conversation of the aunties ^ made her screech with 
laughing ; and, in short, I can neither record nor describe 
ail that she said ; far from exaggerating it, I don't say 
half enough, but I only wish you had seen the effect it 
produced. I am sure you will b& the ûrst author of tho 
âge." 

In another letter she writes :— 

" I had an immense packet from Lady C. the other 
day, which I confess rather disappointed me, for I expected 
volumes of new compositions. On opening it, what should 
it prove but your -book returned ? so I shall keep it safo 
till I see you. She was profuse in its praises, and so waa 
mamma, who said she was particularly tîiken with Lady 

^ Lady Charlotte Campbell, her aunt, better knowu lattoi ./ 
as Lady Charlotte Bury, and celebrated for her beauty and 
accomplishments. 

* Miss Mure of Caldwell. 

• Thèse oddities were the three Misses Ëdmonstone, of the 
Duntreath family, and old family Mends, aiter one of whom 
Miss Ferrier was named. 



MISS febrier's novels. 11 

JuliaTîa'f^ brother,^ he was so like the duke. Ladv C. said 
Rhe had read it ail deliberately and critically, and pro- 
nuunced it capital, with a dash under it Lady C. begs 
tbat in your enimieratioii of Lady Olivia's peccadiUoes 
you will omit waltzes." 

That dance had just been introduced in London 
(1811), and the season of that year Miss Clavering 
spent with her aunt, Lady Charlotte, in the métro- 
polis, in a round of gaiety, going to parties at Ken- 
sington Palace (where the Princess of Wales^ then 
lived), Devonshire House, and the witty Duchess of 
Gordon's, one of the "Empresses of Fashion," as 
Walpole calls her. Ajpropos of waltzes, she writes to 
Miss Ferrier : — 

" They are ail of a sudden become so much the rage 
hère that people meet in the moming at one another's 
houses to leam them. And they are getting on very 
much. Lady Charlotte and I get great honour for the 
accomplisbment, and I hâve improved a few scholars. 
Clanronald^ îb grown so detestably fine. He waltzes 
with me because he thinks he thereby shows off his 
figure, but as to speaking to me or Lady Charlotte he 
thinks himself much above that He is in much request 
at présent because of his dancing ; next to him Lord 
Hartington is, I think, the beat (lancer ; lie is, besides, 
very fond of it, and is much above being fine ; I never 
met with a more natural, boyish créature." 

To retum to the noveL The only portion from 

* Lord Courtland. 

2 Lady Charlotte was one of the Princesses ladies-in-waiting. 
' Macdonald of Clanronald, a great beau in the fashionablo 
London world. 



12 MISS ferrieb's noyels. 

Miss Clavering's pen îs the hîstory of Mrs. Douglas 
in the fîrst volume, and are, as she herself remarked, 
"the only few pages that will bô skippei" She 
f urther adds : — 

'' Maké haâte and prînt it then, lest one of the Miss 
EdmoDfltones should die, as then I should think you 
woul<l scarce venture for fear of being haunted. 

• • • • • 

'' I shall hasten to bum your last letter, as you men- 
tion something of looking ont for a father for your hami- 
linçy 60 I don't think it would be décent to let anybody 
get a sight of such a letter 1" 

At last, în 1818, the novel was pubEshed by the 
late Mr. Blackwood, and drew forth loud plaudits 
from the wonderîng public, as to who the author of 
80 original a book could ba "In London it is much 
admired, and generally attributed to Walter Scott^'* 
80 writes a f riend to Miss Ferrier ; and she replies in 
her humorous style: "Whosever it is, I hâve met 
with nothing that has interested me since." Sir 
Walter must hâve been flattered at bis being supposed 
its father, for he says. in the conclusion of the Taies 
ofmy La/ndlord i — 

^ There remains behind not only a large harvest, but 
labourers capable of gathering it in ; more tban one writer 
has of late displayed talents of this description, and if the 
présent author, himseK a phantom, may be permitted to 
diBtinguish a brother, or perhaps a sister, shadow, he would 
mention in particular the author of the very lively work 
entitled Marriage" 

Mr. Blackwood, whose opinion is of some value, 



mss tesbieb's noykls. IS 

thought yeiy higHy of Marriage, and lie writes to Miss 
Ferrier (1817) :— 

^' Mr. B. will not allow liîmself to thînk for one moment 
tliat there can be any uncertaînty as to the work bdng 
completed. Not to mention his own deep disappointment, 
Mr. B. would almost consider it a crime if a work possess- 
ing so mucli interest and usef al instruction were not given 
to the world. The anthor is the only critic of whom 
Mr. B. is afraid, -and after what he has said, he anxioosly 
hopes that this censor of the press will very speedily affiz 
the imprimatyo',^ 

In allusion to Sir Walter's eulogîum on the novel 
above quoted, Mr. Blackwood writes to the author : — 

" I hâve the pleasure of enclosing you this concluding 
sentence of the new Taies of my Landlordy which are to 
be pnblished to-morrow. After this call, surely yon will 
be no loDger silent. If the great magidan does not con- 
jure you I shaU give up ail hopes." 

But Miss Ferrier seems to bave been proof against 
the great magîcian eyen. Marriage became deservedly 
popular, and was translated into French, as appears 
from the annexed: — 

" We perceîve by the French papers that a translation 
of Miss Ferrier's élever novel Marriage has been very snc- 
cessfal in France." — New Timesy 6 Oct '25. 

For Marriage she received the sum of XI 50. Her 
second venture was more successful in a pecuniary 
sensa Space, however, prohibîts me from dwelling 
any longer on Marriage, so we corne next to The 
InheriUmce, This novel appeared six years after, in 



14 MIBS FERRIER'S NOVELS. 

1824, and is a work of very great merit. To her sîster 
(Mrs. Kinloch, in London) Miss Ferrier writes : — 

" John (her brother) has now completed a bargain with 
Mr. Blackwood, by which I am to hâve ^1000 for a novel 
now in hand, but which is not nearly finished, and pos- 
sibly never may be. Nevertheless he is désirons of 
annonncing it in hîs magazine, and therefore I wish to 
prépare yon for the shoch I can say nothing more than 
I hâve already said on the subject of èilence, if not of 
secrecy. I never will avow myself, and nothing can hurt 
and offend me so much as any of my friands doing it for 
me ; this is not façon de parler, bat my real and nnalter- 
able feeling ; I could not bear the fuss of authorism !" 

Secrecy as to her authorship seems to hâve been 
the great désire of her heart, and much of The Inheriù- 
ance was written in privacy at Momingside House, 
old Mr. Ferrier's summer retreat near Edinburgh, and 
she says, "This house is so small, it is very ill-calculated 
for concealment" 

It was not till 1851 that she publicly avowed her- 
self by authorising her name to be prefixed to a 
revised and corrected édition of her works.^ Sir 
Walter Scott was delighted with this second novel, 
a proof of which was conveyed to Miss Ferrier by 
Mr. Blackwood : — 

" On Wednesday I dined in company with Sir Walter 
Scott, and he spoke of the work in the very highest terms. 
I do not always set the highest value on the baronet's 



^ Published by the late Mr. Richard Bentley, to whom she 
sold her copyrights in 1841. A previous édition waa published 
by him in 1841. 



MISS ferrier's novels. 15 

favourable opinion of a book, because he bas se mnch 
kindneaa of feeling towards every one, but in tbis case he 
Bpoke 80 mucb con amore, and entered so completely, and at 
Buch a length, to me, into the epirit of tbe book and of tliu 
characters, that sbowed me at once tbe impression it bad 
made on him. Every one I bave seen wbo bas seen the 
book gives the some praise of it. Two or three days ago 
I bad a note from a Mend, which I copy : ' I bave nearly 
finisbed a Yolome of 2'he InJieritance, It is unquestionably 
tbe best novel of the class of tbe présent day, in so far a^ 
I can yet judge. Lord Kossville, Adam Eamsay, Bell 
Black and tiie Major, Miss Pratt and Anthony Wbyte, are 
capital, and a fine contrast to each other. It is, I tbink, 
a more elaborate work tban Marriage, better told, witli 
greater variety, and displaying improved powers. I con- 
gratulate you, and bave no doubt tbe book will make a 
prodigious soughJ"^ 

Mr. Blackwood adds : " I do not know a better 
judge nor a more f rank and honest one than the wiiter 
of this note." 

Again he writes : — 

** On Saturday I lent in confidence to a very clever 
friend, on whose discrétion I can rely, tbe two volumes 
of The InherUance, This moming I got tbem back 
with the folio wing note: *My dear Sir — I am truly 
delighted with The Triheritance, 1 do not find as yet any 
one character qui te equal to Dr. Redgill,^ except, perhaps, 
the good-natured, old-tumbled (or troubled, I can*t make 
ont which) maiden,^ but as a novel it is a hundred miles 

^ Sensation. 

* In Marriage tbe gourmet pbysician to Lord Courtland, and 
"the living portrait of hondreds, thougb never befor» hit off 
8o welL" 

^ Miss Becky Duguid. 



16 MISS feerier's novels. 

above Marrîage. It reminds me of Miss Austen's very 
best things in every page. And if the thixd volume be 
like thèse, no fear of success triumphant*" 

Mr. Blackwood again says : — 

" You hâve only to go on as you are going to sustain 
the character Sir Walter gave me of Marriage, that you 
had the rare talent of making your conclusion even better 
than your commencement, for, said this worthy and vera- 
cious person, * Mr. Blackwood, if ever I were to write a 
novel, I would like to write the two first volumes, and 
leave anybody to write the third that liked."* 

In the followîng note, Lister, author of Oramiby^ 
also expresses his admiration in graceful terms, and 
with a copy of his own novel for Miss Ferrier'B 
acceptance : — 

T. £r. Lister to Miss Ferner. 

^ 17 Hbriot Row, Féb. 3, 1836. 

" My dbar Madam — I should feel that, in requesting 
your acceptance of the book which accompanies this note, 
I should be presuming too much upon the very short timc 
that I hâve had the honour of being known to you, if 
Mrs. Lister had not told me that you had kindly spoken 
of it in approving terms. I hope, therefore, I may be 
allowed, without presumption, to présent to you a book 
which you hâve thus raised in the opinion of its writer, 
and the composition of which is associated in my mind 
with the recollectîon of one of the greatest phîasures I 
hâve derived from novel-reading, for which I am indebted 
to you. I believe the only novel I read, or at any rate 
can now remember to hâve read, during the whole time I 
was writing Grariby, was your Inheritance. — Believe me, 
my dear Madam, your very faithfol, T. H. Lister." 



MISS ferrier's noyels. 17 

From Mrs. Lister (afterwards Lady Theresa Come- 
wall Lewis) Miss Ferrier also received the foUowing 
complimentary note : — 

Mrs. Lister to M%s$ Fmritr. 

^ Thursàony NighL 17 Hbbiot Eow. 

'' Mt deab Miss Febbier — I cannot leave Edinbnigh 
withont a gratefal acknowledgment of yonr veiy kind and 
flattering gift. Mr. Lister called npon yon in hopes of 
being able to wish you good-bye, and to tell you in per- 
son how much we were pleased with the proof you bave 
given us tbat we are not unworthy of enjoying and appre- 
ciating your delightful works — ^pray accept our very best 
thanks, and I bope as an authoress you will not feel 
offended if I say tbat tbey will now bave an added cbarm 
in our eyes from tbe regard wbicb our personal acquaint* 
ance witb the writer bas engendered. I know tbat, to 
those wbo do not miz mucb in society, tbe acquaint- 
ance witb strangers is often irksome : we tberefore feel 
tbe more obliged to you for baving allowed us tbe pleasure 
of knowing you, and I bope tbat if we retum in tbe 
course of tbe year tbat we may find you less suffering in 
bealtb, but as kindly disposed to receive our visite ae you 
bave bitberto been. We feel very gratefcd for ail the 
kindness we bave met with in Edinburgb, and amongst 
ihe pleasant réminiscences of tbe last five months we must 
always rank bigh tbe baving received from you as a token 
of i^ard so acceptable a gift. — Believe me (or, indeed, 
I ought to say us), my dear Miss Ferrier, yours mort 
fdncerely, M Thbrbsa Libteb.'' 

Lord Murray, the late Scotch Judge, writes to a 
mutual friend of his and Miss Ferrier's (Miss Walker 
of Dahy) :— 

VOL. I. ». 



18 MISS FEREIER'S IjTOVELS. 

" I received a copy of Inheritance in the name of the 
author, and as I do not know who the author is, and I 
suspect that you know more than I do, I trust you will 
find some channel through whicli you will convey my 
thanka I read Inheritance with very great pleasure. 
The characters are very well conceived, and delineated 
with great success. I may add I hâve heard it highly 
commended by much better judges. Jefl5rey speaks very 
l'avourably. He is particularly pleased with the Nabob 
(Major) and spouse, the letter irom the Lakes, and the 
P.iS. to it. Lord Gwydyr, who lives entirely in fashion- 
able circles, said to me much in its praise, in which I 
concurred. 

" From many other symptoms I hâve no doubt of its 
complète success." 

Miss Hannah Mackenzîe, daughter of the "Man 
of Feeling," writes to her friend Miss Ferrier : — 

" Walter Scott dined hère the other day, and both he 
and papa joined heartily in their admiration of uncle 
Adam, and their wish to know who he is. Sir W. also 
admires Miss Becky Duguid, and said he thought her 
quite a new character. I should like much to see you, 
and talk ail over at length, but fear to invite you to my 
own bower for fear of suspicion ; but I trust you will soon 
come boldly, and face my whole family. I do not think 
you need fear them much ; of course, like other people, 
they hâve their * thoughts,' but by no means speak with 
certainty, and Margaret has this minute assured us that 
she does not think it Miss Ferrier's." 

Uncle Adam, with " his seventy thousand pounds," 
and as "cross as two sticks," in some degree resembled 
old Mr. Ferrier, who was somewhat brusque and testy 
in his manner, and alarmed many people who were 



MISS ferrieb's novels. 19 

otherwîse unacquaînted with the true gemiine worth 
and honesty of hîs character. Miss Becky îs a poor 
old maîd, saddled with commissions from ail her 
friends of a most miscellaneous description. 

'* She was expected to attend àll accouchemenUf christ- 
enings, deaths, chestmgs, and hurials, hat sHe was seldom 
asked to a mamage, and never to any party of pleasnre.'' 

She is an admirable pendant to the ^'Pratt^" who 
is inséparable, however, from her invisible nephew, 
Mr. Anthony Whyte. Miss Pratt is a sort of female 
Paul Pry, always tnming up at the most unexpected 
moment at Lord EossvilleX and finally puts the finish- 
ing stroke to the pompons old peer by driving up 
to his castle door in the hearse of Mr. M*Vitie, the 
Eadical distiller, being unable to procure any other 
mode of conveyance during a heavy snow-storm, and 
assured every one that she fancied she was the first 
person who thought herself in luck to hâve got into a 
hearse, but considered herself still luckier in having 
got well out of ona 

Caroline, Duchess of Argyll,^ expresses her appré- 
ciation of The InherUance to the author, for whom she 
entertained a warm friendship : — 

" Uppeb Brook Street, Monday Evming. 

"What can I say suflSciently to express my thanks 
either to you, my dear Miss Femer, or to the author of 



^ Daughter of Lord Jersey, and wife of the first Marquis of 
Anglesea, whom she divorced, when Lord Paget, in 1810 : m. 
the same year George, sixth Duke of Argyll. 



20 MISS ferbier's noyels. 

The Inheritanee, whoeyer fihe may be, for tlie most peifect 
édition of that most perfect book that was ever written ! 
and now that I may be allowed to bave my suspicion^ I 
sball read it again witb donble pleasnre. It was so kind 
of yon to remember yonr promise î When I received 
your kind letter and books this moming I was qnite 
deligbted witb my beautifal présent, and to find I was 
not forgotten by one of my best friends « 

The InherUa/nce — ^a f act not generally known — ^was 
dramatised and produced at Covent Garden, but had 
a very short nm, and was an utter f allure, as might 
hâve been expected. Mrs. Gore was requested to 
adapt it for the stage by the chief comic actors of the 
day, and she writes to Miss Terrier on the subject : — 

'' Since the management of Covent Garden Théâtre fell 
into the hands of Laporte, he has favoored me with a 
commission to write a comedy for him, and the subject 
proposed by him is again the French novel of VHéretièrey 
which turns out to be a literal translation of The InheriU 
ance, He is quite bent upon having Miss Pratt on the 
stage. I bave not chosen to give Monsieur Laporte any 
positive answer on the subject without previously apply- 
ing to yourself to know whether you bave any intention 
or inclination to apply to the stage those admirable 
talents which are so greatly appreciated in London." 

Mrs. Gore, meanwhile, had been forest9lled in her 
attempt, as a play on the subject had been laid before 
the reader to Covent Garden, and she writes again to 
Miss Ferrier : — 

'' I bave since leamed with regret that the play is the 
production of a certain Mr. Fitzball, the distinguished 
author of the Flying Dutehman, and sixty other successfol 



MISS FERRIER'S NOVELL 21 

melodramos, represented with great applauRe at thé Snrrey, 
Coburg, City, and Pavilion Théâtres, etc.; in short, a 
writer of a very low class. The play of The Inheritance 
bas been accepted at Covent Garden ; but, from my know- 
ledge of the gênerai engagements of the théâtre, I should 
say that it has not the elightest chance of approaching to 
représentation. For your sake it cannot be better than in 
the black-box of the manager's room, which secures it at 
least from performance at the Coburg Théâtre." 

We must let the curtain, so to speak, drop on The 
InherUance^ and pass on to Destiny. This novel also 
appeared six years after, in 1831, and was dedicated 
to Sir Walter Scott And he acknowledges the com- 
pliment as f oUows : — 

Sir Walter SeoU to Miss Ferrier. 

"My deab Miss Ferrier — Ann returned to-day, 
and part of her Edinburgh news informs me that you 
meditated honouring your présent literary offspring with 
my name, so I do not let the sun set without saying how 
much I shall feel myself obliged and honoured by such 
a compliment 1 will not stand bandying compliments 
on my want of merit, but can swallow so great a compli- 
ment as if I really deserved it, and indeed, as whatever 
I do not owe entirely to your goodness I may safely set 
down to your Mendship, I shall scarce be more flattered 
one way or the other. 1 hope you will make good some 
hopes, which make Ann veiy proud, of visiting Abbotsford 
about April next Nothing can give the proprietor more 
pleasure, for the birds, which are a prodigious chorus, 
are making of their nests and singing in blithe chorus. 
'Pray come, and do not make this a flattering dream.' I 
know a little the value of my future godchild, since I 
had a peep at some of the sheets when I was in town 



22 mss ferrier's novels. 

durîng the great snowstorm, which, out of compassion 
for an author closed up within her gâtes, may prove an 
apology for his breach of confidence. So far I must say 
tliat what I hâve seen bas bad tbe greatest effect in making 
me curîous for tbe rest. 

"Believe me, dear Miss Ferrîer, witb tbe greatest 
respect, your most sincère, bumble servant, 

" Waltbe Soott. 

" Abbotsford, Tuesda/y EveningJ* 

In the next note he acknowledges a copy of Destiny^ 
sent him by the author : — 

Sir WaUer Scott to Miss Ferrier, 

" Deab Miss Fbrribr — If I bad a spark of gratitude 
in me I ougbt to bave written you well-nigh a montb 
ago, to tbank you in no common fasbion for Destiny, 
wbicb by the few, and at tbe same time tbe probability, 
of its incidents, your writings are tbose of tbe first person 
of genius wbo bas disarmed the little pedantry of tbe 
Court of Cupid and of gods and men, and allowed youtbs 
and maidens to propose otber alliances tban tbose an early 
choice bad pointed out to tbem. I bave not time to tell 
you ail tbe conséquences of my revolutionary doctrine. 
AU thèse we will talk over wben you come hère, which 
I am rejoiced to hear is likely to be on Saturday next, 
wben Mr. Cadell ^ will be happy to be your beau in tbe 
Blucher,^ and we will take care are met witb at the toU. 
Pray do not make this a flattering dream. You are of 
the initiated, so will not be de trop witb Cadell. — I am, 
always, witb tbe greatest respect and regard, your faithful 
and affectionate servant, Walter Scott. 

" Abbotsford, Wednesday Evening,** 

^ Destiny was published by Cadell through Sir Walter'i 
intervention, and by it the auÛior realised £1700. 
* Name of the atage-coach. 



MISS fekrier's novels. 23 

In 1832, the year after the birth of his godchild 
Destiny, poor Sir Walter began to show signs of that 
gênerai break-up of mind and body so speedily fol- 
lowed by his death. Of this sad state Miss Ferrier 
writes to her sister, Mrs. Kinloch (in London) : — 

^ Alas ! the night cometh when no man can work, as 
iB the caae with that mighty genius which seems now 
completely quenched Well might he be styled * a bright 
and benignant luminary/ for while ail will déplore 
the loss of that bright intellect which has so long charmed 
a world, many will still more deeply lament the warm 
and steady frieud, whose kind and genuine influence was 
ever freely ditfused on ail whom it could benefit. I trust, 
however, he may be spared yet awhile ; it might be salu- 
tary to himself to con over the lessons of a death-bed, 
and it might be edifying to others to hâve his record 
added to the many that hâve gone before him, that ail 
below is vanity. But till we feel that we shall never 
believe it ! I ought to feel it more than most people, as 
I sit in my dark and solitary chamber, shut out, as it 
seems, from ail the * pride of life * ; but, alas ! worldly 
things make their way into the darkest and most solitary 
recesses, for their dwelling is in the heart, and from 
thence Qod only can expel them." 

Her first visit to the author of Waverley was in 
the autumn of 1811, when she accompanied her father 
to AshestieL The invitation came from Scott to Mr. 
Ferrier :— 

Walter Scott, Esq,, to James Ferrier^ Esq, 

"My dbab Sir — We are delighted to see that your 
feet are free and disposed to turn themselves our way— - 
a pleasure which we caiinot consent to put off till we hâve 



2i MISS febkiëb's KOVELS. 

a house at Abbotsford, which is but a distant prospect. 
We are quite disengaged and alone, eaving the company 
of Mr. Teny the comedîan, wbo îs assîsting me in plan- 
ning mj cottage, baving been bred an arcbitect xmder 
Wyat He reads to us after coffee in the evening, which 
is very pleasant This letter will reacb you to-morrow, 
80 probably Thv/rsday may be a convenient day of marché 
wben we shall ezpect you to dinner abont fiye o'dock, 
nnless the weather should be very stormy, in which case 
we should be sony Miss Ferrier should risk getting çold. 
To-day îb clearing up after a week's dismal weather, which 
may entitle us to ezpect some pleasant October days, not 
the woist of our climate. The road is by Middleton and 
Bankhouse ; we are ten ndles from the last stage, and 
thirty from Edinburgh, hilly road. There is a ford 
beneath Ashestiel generally very passable, but we will 
bave the boat in readiness in case Miss Ferrier prefers it, 
or the water should be foll. Mrs. Scott joins in kind 
respects to Miss Ferrier, and I ever am, dear Sir, — ^youm 
truly obliged, W. Scott. 

** Ashestiel, Octoher 7." 

It was in 1811 that Scott was appointed a clerk of 
session, and to Mr. Ferrier he was in some measure 
indebted for that post 

Her last visit to Abbotsford is touchingly alluded 
io by Lockhart in his Life of Scott: — 

^ To assist them in amusing him in the hours which 
he spent out of his study, and especially that he might 
make thèse hours more fréquent, his daughter had invited 
his friend the authoress of Marriage to come out to 
Abbotsford, and her coming was serviceable. For she 
knew and loved him well, and she had seen enough of 
affliction akin to his to be well skilled in dealîng with it, 
She could not be an hour in his company without observ* 



HISS ferbieb's noyels. 25 

ing what fiUed his childien wîth more sorrow than àll 
tihe refit of the case. He would begin a story as gaily as 
eyer, and go on, in spite of tbe hésitation in his speech, 
to tell it with highly pictnxesque effect — but before he 
reached the point, it would seem as if some internai spring 
had given way. He paused and gazed round hini with 
the blank anziety of look that a blind man bas when he 
has dropped his staff. Unthinking friends sometimes 
gave him the catch- word abruptly. I noticed the delicacy 
of Miss Ferrier on such occasions. Her sight was bad, 
and she took care not to use her glasses when he was 
epeaking, and she affected also to be troubled with deafness, 
and would say, ' Well, I am getting as duH as a post, I 
bave not heard a word since you saîd so and so,' being 
sure to mention a drcumstance behind that at which he 
had really halted. He then took up the thread with his 
habituai smile of courtesy, as if forgetting his case entirely 
in the considération of the lad/s infirmity.'' 

A very interesting account of her recollections of 
visits to Âshestîel and Abbotsford appeared in the 
Febraary (1874) number of this magazine : it is short^ 
but gives a sad and pathetic picture of the great man 
and his little grandson as they sat aide by side at 
toble. 

The following letter on Dedmy is from Mr& 
Fletcher,^ a distinguished citizen of Edinburgh at 
ihe commencement of this century, and a leader of 
the Whig Society there. For that reason it is worthy 
of insertion hère. Her son married Miss Clavering; 
aa before mentioned : — 



^ Her Memoir, by her daughter, Lady Bichardson, was pub* 
lished not long since. 



26 MISS FEKRIER'S NOVELS. 

Mrs, Fletcher to Miss Ferrier, 

"Tadcaster, April 16, 1831. 

"Mt deab Miss Ferrier — I should not hâve been 
80 long in thanking you for your kind présent, had I not 
wislied to subject Destiny to a severer test than that 
cliosen by the French dramatist His old woman pro- 
bably partook of the vivacity of her nation, but my old 
aunt, as Mary will tell you, is sick and often very sorrow- 
ful, and yet Destiny has made her laugh heartily, and 
cheated her of many wearisome hours of lamentation. 
My giundson, Archibald Taylor, too, forsook footbaU and 
cricket for your fascinating book, and told me * he could 
sit up ail night to see what had becomé of Ronald.' Mr. 
Ribley and * Kitty, my dear,' hit his comic fancy particu- 
larly. My two most bookish neighbours, one an Oxford 
divine, and the other a Cambridge student, déclare that 
•Glenroy and M*Dow are exquisite originals.' My own 
favourite, *Molly Macaulay,' préserves her good-humour 
to the last, though I thought you rather unmerciful in 
shutting her up so long in Johnnie's nursery. The 
fashionable heartlessness of Lady Elizabeth and her 
daughler is coloured to the life, aud the refreshment uf 
retuming to nature, truth, affection, and happiness at Inch 
Orran is admirably managed. Mary tells me you hâve 
retumed from Fife with fresh materials for future volumes. 
Go on, dear Miss Ferrier, you are accountable for the 
talents entrusted to you. Go on to detect selfishness in 
ail its varions forms and foldings ; to put pride and vanity 
to shame ; to prove that vulgarity belongs more to charac- 
ter than condition, and that ail who make the world their 
standard are essentially vulgar and low-minded, however 
noble their exterior or refined their manners may be, and 
that true dignity and élévation belong ouly to those to 
whom Milton's lines may be applied : 

*• ' Thy care is fixed, and zealously attends 
To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light, 
And hope that reaps not shame.' " 



i^iss fërrieb's novels. 27 

The following letter from Joanna Baillie gives a 
Tery just and truthful criticism on Destiny : — 

Miss Joanna Baillie to Miss Ferrier, 

^*Hampstead, Jlfay 1831. 

" Mt deâr m ADAM — I received your very kind présent 
6f youT last work about three weeks ago, and am very 
gratefol for the pleasure I hâve had in reading it, and l'or 
being thus remembered by you. 1 thauk you also for the 
pleasure and amusement which my sisters and some other 
friends hâve drawn from it. The first volume struck me 
as extremely clever, the description of the différent cha- 
racters, their dialogues, and the writer's own remarks, 
excellent There is a spur both with the writer and the 
reader on the opening of a work which naturally gives 
the beginning of a story many advantages, but I must 
confess that your characters never forget their outset, but 
are well supported to the very end. Your Molly Mac- 
aulay ^ is a delightful créature, and the footing she is on 
with Glenroy very naturally represented, to say nothing 
of the rising of her character at the end, when the weight 
of contempt is removed from her, which is very good and 
true to nature. Your minister, M'Dow,^ hateful as he is, 
is very amusing, aud a true représentative of a few of the 
Scotch clergy, and with différent language and manners of 

^ The humble and devoted dépendant of the proud chief 
Glenroy, and governess to his chlldren. She was drawn irom 
life, for Mrs. Kinloch writes to her sister, Miss Ferrier : " Molly 
Macaulay is charming ; her nièce, Miss Cumming, is an old 
acquaintance of mine, and told me the character was drawn 
to the life. The old lady is still alive, in her ninety-fii'st 
year, at Inveraray, and Miss C. , who is a very élever, pleasing 
person, seems delighted with the truth and spirit of the whole 
character of her aunty." 

^ Lord Jeffrey considered M 'Dow "an entira and perfect 
chrysolite, not to be meddled with." 



28 MISS fëebieb's noyels. 

a gieat many of the English clei^ — worldly, mean men, 
who boldly make their way into every great and wealthy 
&mily for the sake of preferment and good cheer. Your 
Lady Elizabeth, too, with ail her selfishness and ezcess of 
absnrdity, is tnie to herself thronghout, and makes a very 
characteristîc ending of it in her third marriage. But 
why should I tease you by going throngh the différent 
characters ? Snffice it to say that I thank you Yery 
heartily, and congratulate you on again having added a 
work of 80 much merit to onr stock of national novels. 
Perhaps before this you hâve received a very short publi- 
cation of mine on a very serions subject I desired my 
bookseller to send a copy to you, enclosed along with one 
to your Mend, Miss Mackenzie. How far you will agrée 
with my opinions regarding it I cannot say, but of one 
thing I am sure, that you will judge with candour and 
charity. I should hâve sent one to Mr. Alison had I not 
thought it presumptuous in me to send such a work to 
any dergyman, and, with only one exception (a Presby- 
terian clergyman), I hâve abstained from doing so. I 
was very much obliged to Mrs. Mackenzie, Lord M. 's lady, 
for the letter she was so good as to write me in her sister- 
in-law's stead. If you should meet her soon, may I beg 
that you will hâve the goodness to thank her in my 
name. I was very sorry indeed to leam from her that 
Mise Mackenzie had been so ill, and was then so weak, 
and that the favourable accoimt I had received of your 
eyes had been too favourable. With ail good wishes to 
you, in which my sister begs to join me, — ^I remain, my 
dear Madam, gratefully and sincerely yours, 

" J. Baillib." 

Granville Penn, the descendant of the founder of 
Pennsylvania, records the impression Destiny made on 
hîm, and which he communicates to Miss Erskine of 
GardrosSy who copied and sent it to the author, as 
follows : — 



MISS ferrier's novels. 29 

" Mt dbar Madam — I retum your book, but I am 
nnable to retiim you adéquate thanks for being the cause 
of my reading it. I hâve done this (and ail with me) 
with delight, from the interest and admiration at the 
whole composition, the novelty and excitement of its plan, 
the exquisite and thriUing manner of its disclosuie, the 
absence of ail flat and heavy intervals, the conception and 
support of the characters, the sound and salutary moral 
that peryades it ail — thèse make me love and honour its 
valuable authoress, and lament that I am not in the 
number of her acquaintance. We ail doat upon Miss 
Macaulay, and grieve that she is not living at Richmond 
or Petersham ; and Mr. M*Dow has supplied me with a 
new name for our little young dog, whom I hâve called, 
in mémorial of his little nephew (or nièce), Little M*Fee. 
With ail the thanks, however, that I can offer, etc. 

" Granvillb Pbnn. 

"Devonshire Cottage, Ist May 1831." 

The next tribute of admiration bestowed on Destmy 
was from Sir James Mackintosh: — 

Sir James Mackintosh to Miss Ferrier, 

"LoNDON, lOth June 1831. 
" Dbab Miss Fermer — Let me tell you a fact, which 
I hope you will excuse me from mentioning, as some sub- 
sidiary proof of your power. On the day of the dissolu- 
tion of Parliament, and in the critical hours between 
twelve and three, I was employed in reading part of the 
second volume of Destiny, My mind was so completely 
occupied on your colony in Argyleshire, that I did not 
throw away a thought on kings or parliaments, and was 
not moved by the gênerai curiosity to stir abroad till I 
had finished your volume. It woidd hâve been nothing 
if you had so agitated a youth of genius and susceptibility, 
"pione to liteiary enthusiasm, but such a yictoiy over an 



30 MISS ferrier's xovels. 

old hack is perhaps worthy of yoiir notice. — I am, my 
dear Miss Ferrier, your friend and admirer, 

"J. Maokintosh." 

Professer Wilson, " Christopher North," and his 
uncle, Mr. Robert Sym, W.S., "Timothy Tickler," 
discuss the merits of Destiny in the f ar-f amed Nodes : 

" Tickler. — ' I would also except Miss Susan Ferrier. 
Her novels, no doubt, bave many defects, their plots are 
poor, their épisodes dispropiortionate, and the characters 
too often caricatures ; but they are ail thick-set with such 
spécimens of sagacity, such happy traits of nature, such 
flashes of genuine satire, such easy humour, sterling good 
sensé, and, above ail — God only knows where she picked 
it up — mature and perfect knowledge of the world, that 
I think we may safely anticipate for them a différent fate 
&om what awaits even the cleverest of juvénile novels.* 

" North, — * They are the works of a very clever woman, 
sir, and they hâve one feature of true and melancholy 
interest quite peculiar to themselves. It is in them alone 
that the ultimate breaking-down and debasement of the 
Highland character has been depicted. Sir Walter Scott 
had ôxed the enamel of genius over the last fitful gleams 
of their half-savage chivalry, but a humbler and sadder 
scène — the âge of lucre -banished clans — of chief tains 
dwindled into imitation squires, and of chiefs content to 
barter the recollections of a thousand years for a few 
gaudy seasons of Almacks and Crockfords, the euthanasia 
of kilted aldermen and steamboat pibrochs was reserved 
for Miss Ferrier.* 

** Tickler, — * She in gênerai fails almost as egregiously 
as Hook dœs in the pathetic,^ but in her last pièce there 



^ This is net true, as there are many pathetic passages ia 
Destiny f particularly between Edith, the héroïne, and her faith- 
lew lover, Sir Reginald. 



! MISS FERMERAS NOVELS. 31 



îs one scène of this description worthy of either Sterne or 
Qoldsmith. I mean where the yonng man^ supposée! to 
hâve been lost at sea, revisits, after a lapse of time, 
the precincts of his own home, watching unseen in the 
twilight the occupations and bearings of the différent 
members of the family, and resolving, under the influ- 
ence of a most gênerons feeling, to keep the secret of his 
préservation.» 

" North, — * I remember it well, and you might bestow 
the same kind of praise on the whole character of MoUy 
Macaulay. It is a picture of humble, kind-liearted, 
thorough-going dévotion and long-suffering, indefatigable 
gentleness, of which, perhape, no sinner of our gender 
could hâve adequately fiUed up the outline. Miss Ferrier 
appears habitually in the light of a hard satirist, but there 
is always a fund of romance at the bottom of every true 
woman's heart who has tried to stifle and suppress that 
élément more carefully and pertinaciously, and yet who 
has drawn, in spite of herself, more genuine tears than 
the authoress of Simple Sman,^ " 

The story of Destiny, like its predecessors, îs laid 
in Miss Femer's faVourite Highlands, and it contains 
several picturesque and vivid descriptions of scenery 
there, — Inveraray, and its surroundings generally, 
forming the model for her graphie pen. Much of this 
novel was written at Stirling Castle, when she was 
there on a visit to her sister, Mrs. Graham,^ whose 

^ Ronald Malcolm. 

' Celebrated by Borns, the poet, for her beauty. She inspired 
his muse when tuming the corner of George Street, Edinburgh, 
The lines addressed to her are to be found in his Poenns. She 
was also a highly-gifted artist. The illustrations in the work 
called the Stirling Heads are from her penciL It was pub- 
lished by Blackwood, 1817. 



32 lOSS febeieb's novels. 

husband, General Graham, was govemor of that 
garrison. After ihe publication of this last work, 
and ihe o£fer of a thousand pounds from a London 
publiaher for anything from her pen,^ she entirely 
ceased from her literary labours, being content to rest 
upon the solid and enduring réputation her three 
" bantlings " (as she called her novels) had won for 
her. The foUowing fragment, however, was found 
among her papers, and is the portrait of another old 
maîd, and might serve as a companion to Miss Pratt 
ÂB it is amusing, and in the writer's satirical style, I 
lay it bef ore my readers : — 

*^ Mifls Betty Landon was a single lady of small for- 
tune, few Personal charma, and a most jaundiced imagina- 
tîo^i . There was no event, not even the most fortunate, 
f . lu which Miss Betty could not extract evil ; everything, 
even the milk of human kindness, with her tumed to gall 
and vinegar. Thus, if any of her friends were married, 
she sighed over the niiseries of the wedded state ; if they 
were single, she bewailed their solitary, useless condition ; 
if they were parents, she pitied them for having children ; 
if they had no chadren, she pitied them for being child- 
less. But one of her own letters will do greater justice 
to the tum of her mind than the most elaborate description. 

" * My deab Miss 1 ought to hâve written to 

you long before now, but I hâve suffered so much from 
the constant changes of the weather that the wonder is 
I am able to hold a pen. During the whole summer the 
beat was really quite intolérable, not a drop of rain or 
a breath of wind, the cattle dying for absolute want, the 

^ She says (1887), " I made two attempts to write sornething, 
Vot could not please myseli^ and would not publish anything^ 



MISS febrieb's noybls. 33 

vegetables dear and scarce, and as for frait — that, you 
know, in this town, is at ail time^ scarce aûd bad, and 
particularly when tliere is the greatest occasion for it 
In tlie autumn we never had two days alike, either wind 
or rain, or frost, or something or another ; and as for our 
winter — ^you know what tliat is — either a constant splash 
of raîn, or a frost like to take the skin off yon. For thèse 
six weeks I may say I hâve had a constant running at 
my heady with a retum of my old complaint ; but as foi 
doctors, I see no good they do, ezcept to load people's 
atomachs and pick their pockets : everything now is ini" 
position ; I reaUy think the very pills are not what they 
were thirty years ago. How people with families con- 
tinue to live is a mystery to me ; and people still going 
on marrying, in the face of national debt, taxes, a new 
war, a starving population, ruined commerce, and no 
outlet for young men in any quarter — God ouly knoTiçi? 
what is to be the end of ail this ! In spite of ail Ijilô, 
thèse thoughtless young créatures, the Truemans, htt>â 
thought proper to make out their marriage ; he is just 
five-and-twenty, and she is not yet nineteen ! so you may 
judge what a prudent, well-managed establishment it will 
be. He is in a good enough business at présent, but in 
thèse tîmes who can tell whafs to happen ? He may be 
wallowing in wealth to-day, and bankrupt to-morrow. 
His sister's marriage with Fairplay is now quite off, and 
her prospects for life, poor thing, completely wrecked ! 
Her looks are entirely gone, and her spirits quite broken. 
She is not like the same créature, and, to be sure, to a girl 
who had set her heart upon being married, it must be a 
great and severe disappointment, for this was her only 
chance, imless she triés India, and the expense of the 
outfit must be a complète bar to that You would hear 
that poor Lady Oldhouse bas had a son — it seemed a 
désirable thing, situated as they are with an entailed pro- 
perty; and yet when I look around me, and see the way 
that sons go on, the dlBsipation and extravagance, and the 

TOLb L D M. 



ï 



34 inSS FEKRIEli'S NOVELS. 

heartbreak they are to their parents, I think a son auy- 
thing but a blessîng. No word of anything of that kind 
to the pooT Ricbardsons ; wîth ail their riches, they are 
¥^ithout anj one to corne after them. The Prowleys are 
up in the air at having got what they call *^ a fine appoint- 
ment " for their fourth son, but for my part Fm really 
sick of hearing of boys going to India, for after ail what 
do they do there 1 I never hear of their sending home 
anything but black children, and when they corne home 
themselves, what do they bring but yellow faces, worn-out 
constitutions, and livers like cocked-hats, crawling about 
from one watering-place to another, tUl they are picked 
up by some light-hearted, fortune-hunting miss, who does 
not care twopence for them.''' 

A beautiful and strong feature in Miss Ferrier's 
character was her intense dévotion to her father, and 
when he died the loss to her was irréparable. She 
also was much attached to a very handsome brother, 
James ; he was colonel of the 94th régiment^ or Scots 
Brigade, and died in India in 1804, at the early âge 
of twenty-seven. He had been at the siège of Serin- 
gapatam in 1799, and was much distinguished by 
the notice of Napoléon at Paris in February 1803, 
whence he writes to his sister Susan : — 

"I think I wrote y ou I had been introduced to the 
Chief Consul. I was on Sunday last presented to his 
lady, whom I do not at ail admire. The great man spoke 
to me then again, which is a very unusual thing, and I am 
told by the French I must be in his good grâces ; however, 
I myself rather think it was my good fortune only : at ail 
events it has given me much pleasure, for it would hâve 
only been doing the thing half if he had not spoken to 
ine. I do not think any of the pictures like hiiu much. 






MISS feerier's novels. 35 

althongh most of them hâve some resemblance ; they give 
him a frown in gênerai, which he certainly bas not — so 
far from it, tbat when he speaks he has one of the finest 
expressions possible.'' 

Hère, unfortunately, this interesting descriptio» 
cornes abruptly to an end, the rest of the letter heid§ 
lest On account of failing health and increased 
bodily languor. Miss Ferrier latterly lived a very 
retired lif e, seeing few but very intimate friends, and, 
as she said, ** We are more recluse than ever, as our 
little cfrcle is yearly contracting, and my eyes are 
more and more averse to light than ever." 

Again she writes : — 

" I can say nothing good of myself, my congh is very 
severe, and will probably continue so, at least as long as 
this weather lasts ; but I bave many comfurts, for which 
I am thankful ; amongst tbose I must reckon silence and 
darkness, which are my best companions at présent." 

For years she had suffered from her eyes, being 
nearly quite blind of one.^ In 1830 she went to 
London to consult an oculist, but unfortunately derived 
little benefit. While there, she visited Isleworth, in 
order to see a villa belonging to Lord Cassillis, and 
which subsequently figured in Destiny as "Wood- 
lands," Lady Waldegrave's rural retreat near London. 
A valued friend^ who saw much of her remarked : — 

' Lady Morgan, a fellow-snfferer from her eyes, was most 
anzions she should consult Mr. Alexander, the eminent oculist, 
as he entirely cured her after four years' expectation of total 
blindness. ^ Lady Bichardson. 



S6 MISS fekrier's noyels. 

" The wonderful vivacity she maintained in thé midst 
of clarkness and pain for so many years, the humour, wit, 
and honesty of her character, as well as the Christian 
submission with which she bore her great privation and 
gênerai discomfort when not suffering acute pain, made 
every one who knew her desirous to alleviate the tedious- 
ness of her days, and I used to read a great deal to her at 
one time, and I never left her darkened chamber without 
feelîng that I had gained something better than the book 
we might be reading, from her quick perception of its 
faults and its beauties, and her unmerciful remarks on àll 
that was mean or unworthy in conduct or expression." 

But perhaps the most faithful pictore of her is 
conveyed in this brief sentence from Scott's diaiy, 
who desciibes her 

^ As a gifted personage, having, besîdes her great talents, 
conversation the least exigeante of any author-femàle, at 
least, whom I hâve ever seen among the long Hst I hâve 
encountered ; simple, full of humour, and exceedingly 
ready at repartee, and ail this without the least affectation 
of the blue-stocking.'' 

From the natural modesty of her character she had 
a great didike to her biography, or mémorial of her in 
any shape, being written, for she destroyed ail letters 
that might hâve been used for such a purpose, pub- 
licity of any kind being most distasteful to her, évi- 
dence of which îs very clearly shown in the first part 
of this narrativa The chief secret of her success as a 
noveHst (setting aside her great genius) was the great 
care and time she bestowed on the formation of each 
noyel — an interval of six years occurring between 



MISS FEBBIEB'S NOVELa 37 

each, the resolt beîng delineations of character that 
are unique. 

Unfortunately there is little to relate regarding 
her childhood, that most interestîng period of humào 
existence in the lives of (and which is generally dis- 
tinguished by some uncommon traits of character) 
people of genius — save that she had for a school com- 
panion and playfellow the late Lord Brougham, the 
distinguished statesman; she was remarkable also 
for her power of mimicry. An amusing anecdote 
of this rather dangerous gift is the foUowing : Her 
brothers and sisters returned home from a bail, yery 
hungry, and entered her room, where they supposed 
she lay asleep, and, whîle discussing the events of the 
evening and the repast they had procured by stealth 
(onknown tô their father), they were suddenly put to 
flight by the sounds and voice, as they thought, of 
their dreaded parent ascending the stairs, and in their 
confusion and exit from the room overturned chairs 
and tables, much to the amusement of little Susan, 
who, no doubt, enjoyed the fright and commotion she 
had caused, and who mimicked under the cover of the 
bedclothes the accents of her redoubtable parent — 
a fit punishment, as she thought, for their ruthless 
invasion of her chamber, and their not ofifering her a 
8hare of their supper. An old Miss Peggy Campbell 
(sister to Sir Islay Campbell, Président of the Court 
of Session) was also taken off by her, and so like that 
her father actually came into the room, where she was 
amusing her hearers, thinking that Miss Campbell 



38 MISS ferrier's novels. 

was really présent When she died a blank was left 
in her native city that bas not been since fiUed, the 
modem Âthens baving somewbat deteriorated in tbe 
wit, leaming, and refinement tbat so distinguished her 
in the days that are gono. 



KEOOLLECTIONS OF VISITS 
TO ASHESTIEL AND ABBOTSFOKD.» 

By susan edmonstone ferrier, 

Author of * Marriage,^ * Inh^ritance,* and *J>e8tiny.* 

I HAVE never kept eitlier note-book or journal, and 
as my meinory is not a retentive one I hâve allowed 
much to escape which I should now vamly attempt to 
recall. Some things must, however, hâve made a 
vivid and durable impression on my mind, as frag- 
ments remain, after the lapse of years, far more 
distinct than occurrences of much more récent date ; 
such, amongst others, are my recollections of my visits 
to Ashestiel and Abbotsford. 

The first took place in the autumn of 1811, in 
conséquence of repeated and pressing invitations from 
Mr. Scott to my father, in which I was included. 
Nothing could be kinder than our welcome, or more 
gratifying than the attentions we received during our 
stay ; but the weather was too broken and stormy to 
admit of our enjoying any of the pleasant excursions 
DUT more weather- proof host had intended for us. 

^ Reprinted from the Ttm^U Bar Magazine for February 1874. 



40 EECOLLECTIONS OF VISITS TO 

My father and I could therefore only take short drives 
with Mrs. Scott, while the bard (about one o'clock) 
mounted his pony, and accompanîed by Mr. Terry the 
comedîa^, his own son Walter, and our young relative 
Greorge Kinloch, sallied forth for a long moming's 
ride in spite of wind and rain. In the evening Mr. 
Terry commonly read some scènes from a play, to 
which Mr. Scott listened with delight, though every 
Word must hâve been quite familiar to him, as he 
occasionally took a part in the dialogue impromptu ; 
at other times he recited old and awesome ballads 
from memory, the very names of which I hâve f orgot. 
The night preceding our departure had blown a perf ect 
hurricane ; we were to leave immediately after break- 
fast^ and while the carriage was preparing Mr. Scott 
stepped to a writing-table and wrote a few hurried 
Unes in the course of a very few minutes ; thèse he 
put into my hand as he led me to the carriage ; they 
were in allusion to the storm, coupled with a friendly 
adieu, and are to be found in my autograph album. 

" The mountain winds are up, and proud 
O'er heath and hill careering loud ; 
The groaning forest to its power 
Yields ail that fonned our summer bower. 
The summons wakes the anxious swain, 
Whose tardy shocks stîll load the plain, 
And bîd9 the sleepless merchant weep, 
Whose rîcher hazard loads the deep. 
For me the blast, or low or high, 
BIows nought of wealth or poverty ; 
It can but whirl in whimsîes vain 
The windmill of a restless biain, 



ASHESTIEL AND ABBOTSJ^fiD. 41 

And bid me tell in slipshod verse 

What honest prose might best rehearse ; 

How much we forest-dwellers grieve 

Onr valned friends our cot slionld leave^ 

Unseen each beauty that we boast, 

The llttle wonders of onr coast» 

That still the pile of Melrose gray, 

For yon must rise in minstreFs lay, 

And Yarrow's birk immortal long 

For yon but bloom in rural song. 

Yet Hope, who still in présent sorrow 

Whispers the promise of to-morrow» 

Tells us of future days to come, 

When you shall glad our rustic home ; 

When this wild whiriwind shall be still. 

And summer sleep on glen and hill. 

And Tweed, unyexed by storm, shall guida 

In silvery maze his stately tide, 

Doubling in mirror every rank 

Of oak and aider on his bank ; 

And our kind guests such welcome proye 

As most we wish to those we love."^ 

Jshestiel, October 13, 1811. 

The invitation had been of ten repeated, but my dear 
father's increasing infîrmities made him averse to leave 
home, and when, in compliance with Sir Walter's 
urgent request^ I visited Abbotsford in the autumn of 
1829, 1 went alone. I was met at the outer gâte by 
Sir Walter, who welcomed me in the kindest manner 
and mo6t flattering terms ; indeed, nothing could sur- 
pass the courtesy of his address on such occasions. 
On our way to the house he stopped and called his two 
litUe grandchildren, Walter and Charlotte Lockhart^ 

* Lines written by Walter Scott while the carriage was walt- 
ing to convey my father and me from Ashestiel. — S. K F. 



42 EBCOLLECÏIONS OF ^SITS TO 

who werc chasîng each other lîke butterâies among the 
flowers— the boy was quite a Cupid, though not an al 
fresco onc ; for he wore a Tartan cloak, whose sundry 
extras fluttered in the breeze as he ran to obey the 
summoufl, and gave occasion to his grandfather to pré- 
sent hini to me as "Major Waddell ;"^ the pretty little 
fairy-looking girl he next introduced as "Whipper- 
stowrie," and then (aware of my love for fairy lore) 
he relatcd the taie, in his own inimitable manner, 
as he walked slowly and stopped frequently in oor 
approach to the house.- As soon as I could look 
round I was struck with the singular and picturesque 
appearance of the mansion and its environs, Yet I 
must own there was more of strangeness than of admira- 
tion in my feelings ; too many objects seemed crowded 
together in a smaU space, and there was a "fait want" 
of breadth and repose for the eye. On entering the 
house I was however charmed with the rich imposing 
beauty of the }xally and admired the handsome antique 
appearance of the dining-room with its interesting 
pictures. After luncheon Sir Walter was at pains to 
point them out to my notice, and related the historiés 
of each and ail ; he then conducted me through the 
apartments, and showed me so much, and told me so 
many anecdotes illustrative of the varions objects 
of interest and curiosity they contained, that I retain 
a very confused and imperf ect recollection of what I 
saw and heard. It was a strong proof of his good- 

^ One of Miss Ferrier's characters in her novel of Ths 



ASHESTIEL AND ABBOTSFORD. 43 

nature that in showing tjhe many works of art and 
relies of antiquity he had continued to accumulate and 
arrange with so much taste and skill, he should hâve 
been at sueh pains to point out the merits and relate 
the history of most of them to one so incapable of 
appreciating their valua But he never allowed one 
to feel their own deficiencies, for he never appeared 
to be aware of them himself. 

It was in the quiet of a small domestic circle I 
had again an opportunity of enjoying the society of 
Sir Walter Scott, and of witnessing, during the ten 
days I romained, the unbroken serenity of his temper, 
the uiiflagging cheerfulness of his spirits, and the un- 
ceasing courtesy of his manners. I had been promised 
a quiet time, else I should not hâve gone ; and indeed 
the State of the family was a sufficient guarantee 
against ail f estivities. Mrs. Lockhart was confined to 
bed by severe indisposition, while Mr. Lockhart was 
detained in London by the alarming illness of their 
eldest boy, and both Cap bain Scott and his brother were 
absent The party, therefore, consisted only of Sir 
Walter and Miss Scott, Miss Macdonald Buchanan 
(who was almost one of the family), and myself. 
Being the only stranger, I consequently came in for a 
larger share of my amiable host*s time and attention 
than I should otherwise hâve been entitled to expect 
Many a pleasant taie and amusing anecdote I might 
hâve had to relate had I written down half of what I 
daily heard; but I had always an invincible répug- 
nance to playing the reporter and taking down people's 



44 SBCOLLECTIONS OF VISITS TO 

words under their own roof. Every day Sir Walter 
was ready by one o'clock to accompany us either in 
driving or walking, often in both, and in either there 
was the same inexhaustible flow of legendary lore, 
romantic incident, apt quotation, curions or diverting 
story ; and sometimes old ballads were recited, corn- 
memoratiye of some of the localities through which 
he passed. Those who had seen him only amidst the 
ordinary avocations of lif e, or even doing the honours 
of his own table, could scarcely hâve conceiyed the 
fire and animation of his countenance at such times, 
when his eyes seemed literally to Idndie, and even 
(as some one has remarked) to change their colour 
and become a sort of deep sapphire blue ; but, perhaps, 
from being close to him and in the open air, I was 
more struck with this peculiarity than those whose 
better sight enabled them to mark his yarying ex- 
pression at other times. Yet I must confess this was 
an enthusiasm I found as little infectious as that of 
his antiquarianism. On the contrary, I often wished 
his noble f aculties had been exercised on loftier thèmes 
than those which seemed to stir his very souL 

The evenings were passed either in Mr& Lock- 
hart's bedroom or in chatting quietly by the fireside 
below, but wherever we were he was always the 
same kind, unostentatious, amusing, and amusable 
companion. 

The day bef ore I was to départ Sir David Wilkie 
and his sister arrived, and the Fergussons and one or 
two friends were invited to meet him. Mrs. Lockhart 



ÀSHSSTIEL AND ABBOTSFOBD. 45 

was 80 desirous of meeting this old friend and distin- 
guished person, that, though unable to put her foot 
to the groiind, she caused herself to be dressed and 
carried down to the drawing-room while the company 
were at dinner. Great was her father's surprise and 
delight on hîs entrance to find her seated (looking 
well and in high spirits) with her harp before her, 
leady to sing his favourite ballads. This raised his 
spirits above their usuel quiet pitch, and towards the 
end of the evening he proposed to wind up the whole 
by àll présent standing in a circle with hands joined, 
Bingîng, 

** Weel may we a' be I 
ni may we never see I " 

Mrs. Locïhart was, of course, unable to join the f estive 
band. Sir David Wilkie was languid and dispmted 
from bad health, and my f eelings were not such as to 
enable me to join in what seemed to me little else 
than a mockery of human life ; but rather than " dis- 
place the mirth," I triedy but could not long remain 
a passive spectator; the glee seemed forced and un- 
naturaL It touched no sympathetic chord; it only 
jaired the f eelings ; it was the last attempt at gaiety 
I witnessed within the walls of Âbbotsf ord. 

Although I had intended to confine my slight 
réminiscence of Sir Walter Scott to the time I had 
passed with him under his own roof in the country, 
yet I cannot refrain from noticing the great kindness 
I received from him during the foUowing winter in 
town. 



46 EECOLLECTIONS OF VISITS TO 

I had, when at Abbotsford in the autumn, spoken 
to him for the first time of my authorship and of the 
work on which I was then engaged He entered into 
the subject with much wannth and eamestness, shook 
hîs head at hearîng how matters had hitherto been 
transacted, and said unless I could make a better bar- 
gaîn in this instance I must leave to him the disposai 
of Destmy, I did so, and from the much more libéral 
terms he made with Mr. Cadell I felt, when too late, 
I had acted unwisely in not having sooner consulted 
him or some one versant in thèse matters. But secrecy 
at that time was ail I was anxious about, and so I 
paid the penalty of trusting entirely to the good faith 
of the publishers. 

I saw Sir Walter frequently during the winter, and 
occasionally dined en famille with Miss Scott and him, 
or with one or two friends, as I did not go into parties, 
neither indeed did he give any, but on account of the 
State of his affairs lived as retiredly as he possibly 
could. 

In the month of February he sustained a paralytic 
shock ; as soon as I heard of this I went to Miss Scott, 
from whom I leamed the particulars. She had seen 
her father in his study a short time before, apparently 
in his usual health. She had returned to the drawing- 
room when Sir Walter opened the door, came in, but 
stood looking at her with a most peculiar and dread- 
fui expression of countenance. It immediately struck 
her he had çome to communicate some very distress- 
ing intelligence, and she exclaimed, " Oh. rtaua ! is 



ASHB8TIEL AND ABBOTSFORD. 47 

Johnnie gone?" He made no reply, but stiU con- 
tinued standing still and regarding her with the same 
fearful expression. She then cried, "Oh, papa ! speak ! 
Tell me, is it Sophia herselfl" Still he remaîned 
immovabla Almost frantîc, she then screamed, "It 
îs Walter ! it is Walter! I know it is." Upon which 
Sir Walter fell senseless on the floor. Médical assist- 
ance was speedily procored. After being bled he re- 
covered his speech, and his first words were, " It was 
very strange! very horrible." He afterwards told 
her he had ail at once felt very queer, and as if unable 
to articulate ; he then went upstaîrs in hopes of get- 
ting rid of the sensation by movement ; but it would 
not do, he felt perfectly tongue-tied, or rather chainedy 
till overcome by witnessing her distres& This took 
place, I think, on the 15th, and on the 18th I was 
invited to dine with him, and f ound him without any 
trace of illness, but as cheerful and animated as usuaL 
Not being very correct as to dates, I should scarcely 
hâve ventured to name the day had not a trifling 
circumstance âerved to mark it After dinner he pro- 
posed that instead of going to the drawing-room we 
should remain with him and hâve tea in the dining- 
room. In the interval the post letters were brought, 
and amongst others there was one from a sister of 
Sir Thomas Lawrence (Mrs. Bloxam), enclosing a 
letter of her brother's, having heard that Sir Walter 
had expresded a wish to hâve some mémorial of him, 
"rather of his pencil than his pen," said he, as he 
handed the letter to me, who, as a collector of auto- 



48 RECOLLEOTIONS OF VISITS TO 

graphs, would probably value them more than he did ; 
and on referrîng to Mrs. Bloxam's letter I find tha 
Edinburgh post-mark February the 18tL 

I received repeated invitations to Abbotsford, and 
had fixed to go on the 17th of April, when, the day 
before, Mr& Skene called upon me with the sad tid- 
ings of another paralytic stroke, which not only put 
a stop to my visit for the présent, but rendered it 
very doubtful whether I should ever see him again. 
But the worst f ears of his friends were not yet to be 
realised 

Early in May the invitation was renewed in a note 
from himself , which I availed myself of , too well assured 
it was a privilège I should enjoy for the last time. 
On reaching Abbotsford I f ound some moming visitors 
(Mr. and Mrs. James, eta) in the drawing-room, but 
as soon as they were gone Sir Walter sent for me to 
his study. I found him seated in his armchair, but 
with his habituai politeness he insisted upon rising 
to receive me, though he did so with such extrême 
diffîculty I would gladly hâve dispensed with this 
mark of courtesy. His welcome was not less cordial 
than usual, but he spoke in a slow and somewhat in- 
distinct manner, and as I sat close by him I could 
perceive but too plainly the change which had taken 
place since we last met His figure was unwieldy, 
not so much from increased bulk as from diminished 
lif e and energy ; his face was swoUen and puffy, his 
complexion mottled and discoloured, his eyes heavy 
and dim; his head had been shaved, and he wore a 



ASHESTIEL AND ABBOTSFORD. 49 

small black silk cap, whîch was extremely nnbecom* 
ing. Altogether, the change was no less striking than 
painful to behold. The impression, however, soon 
wore off (on ànding, as I believed), that his mind was 
unimpaired and his warm kindly f eelings unchanged. 
There was no company, and the dinner party con- 
sisted of Mr. and Mrs. Lockhart, Miss Scott, and my 
self. Sir Walter did not join us till the dessert, 
when he entered, assisted by his servant, and took his 
place at the foot of the tabla His grandchildren 
were then brought in, and his favourite, Johnnie 
Lockhart, was seated by his side. I must hâve f orgot 
most things before I can cease to recall that most 
striking and impressive spectacle, each day repeated, 
as it seemed, with deepening gloom. The first tran- 
sient glow of cheerfulness which had welcomed my 
arrivai had passed away, and been succeeded by an 
air of languor and déjection which sank to deepest 
sadness when his eye rested for a moment on his once 
darling grandson, the child of so mach pride and 
promise, now, alas! how changed. It was most 
tonching to look upon one whose moming of lif e had 
been so bright and beautîful and, still in the smmy 
days of childhood, transformed into an image of dé- 
crépitude and decay. The fair blooming cheek and 
finely chiselled f eatures were now shrunk and stiffened 
into the wan and rigid inflexibility of old âge ; while 
the black bandages which swathed the little pale sad 
countenance, gave additional gloom and harshness to 
the profound melancholy which clouded its most in- 
VOK LE V 



60 RECOLLECTÎONS OF VISITS TO 

tellectual expression. Disease and death were stamped 
upon the grandsire and the boy as they sat side by side 
with averted eyea, each as if in the bittemess of his 
own heart ref using to comfort or be comf orted. The 
two wbo had been wont to regard each other so f ondly 
and so proudly, now seemed averse to hold communion 
together, wbile their appearance and style of dress, 
the black cap of the one and the.black bandages of 
the other, denoted a sympathy in suflFering if in 
nothing else. The picture would hâve been a most 
affecting and impressive one viewed under any cir- 
cumstances, but was rendered doubly so by the con- 
t.astwMcheverywherepresentediJll 

The month was May, but the weather had ail the 
warmth of summer with the freshness and sweetness 
of spring. The Windows of the dining-room were 
open to admit the soft bahny air which " came and 
went like the warbling of music," but whose reviving 
influence seemed unf elt by the sufférers. The trees, 
and shrubs, and flowers were putting f orth their tender 
leaves and fragrant blossoms as if to charm his sensés 
who used to watch their progress with almost patémal 
interest, and the little birds were singing in sweet 
chorus as if to cheer Mm who was wont to listen to 
their evening song with such placid delight Ail 
around were the dear familiar objects which had 
hitherto ministered to his enjoyment, but now, alas ! 
misérable comf orters were they ail 1 It was impossible 
to look upon such a picture without beholding in it 
the réalisation of those solemn and afifecting passages 



ASHESTIEL AND ABBOTSFOBD. 61 

of Holy Writ whîch speak to us of the ephemeral 
nature of ail earthly pleasures and of the moumful 
însignificance of human life, even in its most palmy 
state, when its views and actions, its hopes and desires, 
are confined to this sublunary sphère : " Whence then 
cometh any wisdom, and where is the place of under- 
standing ?" " Thus saith the Lord, Let not the wise 
man glory in his wisdom, neither let the mighty man 
glory in his might ; let not the rich man glory in his 
riches : but let him that glorieth glory in this, that 
he understandeth and knoweth me, that I am the 
Lord." 



'^ . . . Cato did well reprove Alus Âlbinus forwriting the Roman 
story in the Greek longue, of which he had but imperfect knowledge; 
and himself was put to uiake his apology for so doing: Cato told 
him that he was mightily in love with a fault that he had rather beg 
a pardon than be innocent. Who forced him to need the pardon ? ** 

Jerbmy Taylob. 



''Life consists not of a séries of illustrions actions, the greater 
part of our time passes in compliance with necessities — in the per- 
formance of dailv duties — in the removal of small inconveniences — 
in the procurement of petty pleasures; and we are well or ill at ease, 
as the main stream of life glides on smoothly, or is ruâled by small 
and freqaent interruption." — Johnson. 



MARRIAGE. 



CHAPTER L 

"Ijove ! — A Word by superstition thought a God ; by use 
torned to.an humour ; by sell-wîll made a flattering madness.*' 

AlexamUr and Campaspe, 

"CoME hither, child," said the old Earl of Courtland 
to his daughter, as, in obédience to his summons, she 
entered his study; "corne hither, I say; I wish to 
hâve some serions conversation \\ ..h you : so dismiss 
your dogs, shut the door, and sit down hère." 

Lady Juliana rang for the footman to take Venus ; 
bade Pluto be quiet, like a darling, under the sofa ; 
and, taking Oupid in her arms, assured his Lordship 
he need fear no disturbance from the sweet créatures, 
and that she would be ail attention to his commands 
— kissing her cherished pug as she spoke. 

" You are now, I think, seventeen, Juïiana," said 
his Lordship in a solemn important tone. 

"And a half, papa." 

"It is therefore time you should be thinking of 
establishing yourself in the world. Hâve you evOT 
tumed your thoughts that way î " 



64 BOBRIAGE. 

Lady Julîana cast down her beautîfui eyes, and 
was silent 

"As I can give you no fortune," continued the 
Earl, swellîng with ill-suppressed importance, as he 
proceeded, "you hâve perhaps no great pretensions 
to a very brilliant establishment" 

"Ohî none in the world, papa," eagerly inter- 
rupted Lady Juliana ; " a mère compétence with the 
man of my heart" 

" The man of a fiddlestick ! " exclaimed Lord 
Courtland in a fury; "what the devil hâve you to 
do with a heart, I should like to know 1 There's no 
talking to a young woman now about marriage, but 
she is ail in a blaze about hearts, and darts, and — 
and— But hark ye, child, TW suffer no daughter of 
mine to play the f ool with her heart^ indeed ! She 
shall marry for the purpose for which matrimony was 
ordained amongst people of birth — that is, for the 
aggrandisement of her family, the extending of their 
political influence — for becoming, in short, the depo- 
sitory of their mutual interest Thèse are the only 
purposes for which persons of rank ever think of 
ms^rriage. Ând pray, what has your heart to say to 
that?" 

" Nothîng, papa," replied Lady Juliana in a faint 
dejected tone of voica " Hâve done, Cupid ! " addres- 
sing her f avourite, who was amusing himself in puUing 
and tearing the beautif ul lace veil that partly shaded 
the head of his f air mistress. 

" I thought not^" resumed the Earl in a triumphant 



MARBIAGE. 55 

tone — "I thouglit not, indeeA" And as this victory 
over his daughter put him in unusual good humour, 
he condescended to sport a little with her curiosity. 

" And pray, can tliis wonderf ul wise heart of yours 
inform you who it is you are going to obtain for a 
husband î " 

Had Lady Julîana dared to utter thé wîshes of 
. that heart she would hâve been at no loss for a reply ; 
but she saw the necessity of dissimulation ; and after 
naming such of her admirers as were most indiffèrent 
to her, she declared herself quite at a loss, and begged 
her f ather to put an end to her suspense. 

"Now, what would you think of the Duke of 

L V* asked the Earl in a voice of half-smothered 

exultation and delight 

"The Duke of L !" repeated Lady Juliana, 

with a scream of horror and surprise ; " surely, papa^ 
you cannot be serions 1 Why, he's red-haired and 
squints, and he's as old as you.'* 

" If he were as old as the devil, and as ugly too," 
interrupted the enraged Earl, "he should be your 
husband: and may I perish if you shall hâve any 
other ! " 

The youthful beauty burst into tears, while her 
father traversed the apartment with an inflamed and 
wrathf ul visage. 

" If it had been anybody but that odious Duke," 
sobbed the lovely Juliana. 

" If it had been anybody but that odious Duke 1* 
repeated the Earl, mimicking her, " they should not 



56 MABBU6E. 

have had yoa It has been my sole study, ever sinoe 
I saw your brother settled, to bring about this alliance; 
and, wben this is accomplished, my utmost ambition 
will be satisfied. So no more whining — ^the affair is 
settled ; and ail that remains for you to do is to study 
to make yourself agreeable to his Grâce, and to sign 
the settlements. No such mighty sacrifice, methinks, 
when repaid with a ducal coronet, the most splendid 
jewels, the finest équipages, and the largest jointure 
of any woman in Ëngland." 

Lady Juliana raised her head, and wiped her eyes. 
Lord Courtland perceived the effect his éloquence had 
produced upon the childish fancy of his daughter, and 
oontinued to expatiate upon the splendid joys that 
awaited her in a union with a nobleman of the 
Dukê's rank and fortune ; till at length, dazzled, if not 
convinced, she declared herself " satisfied that it was 
her duty to marry whoever papa pleased ; but — " and 
a sigh escaped her as she contrasted her noble suitor 
with her handsome lover : '^ but if I should marry him, 
papa, I am sure I shall never be able to love him." , 

The Earl smiled at her childish simplicity as he 
assured her that was not at ail necessary ; that love 
was now entirely confined to the canaille ; that it was 
very well for ploughmen and dairymaids to marry 
for love ; but for a young woman of rank to think of 
such a thing was plebeian in the extrême ! 

Lady Juliana did not entirely subscribe to the 
arguments of her father; but the gay and glorious 
vision that floated in her brain stifled for a while the 



MARRIAGE. 67 

pleadings of her heart ; and with a sparkling eye and 
an elastîc step she haâtened to prépare for the récep- 
tion of the Duka 

For a f ew weeks the delusion lasted. Lady Julîana 
was flattered with the homage she received as a future 
Duchess ; she was delighted with the éclat that attended 
her, and charmed with the daily présents showered 
upon her by her noble suitor. 

" Well, really, FavoUe/' said she to her maid, one 
day, as she dasped on her beautiful arm a resplendent 
bracelet^ *4t must be owned the Duke has a most 
exquisite taste in trinkets ; don't you think so ) And, 
do you know, I don't think him so very — ^very ugly. 
When we are married I mean to make him get a 
Bmtus, cork his eyebrows, and hâve a set of teetk" 
But just then the smiling eyes, curling hair, and finely 
f ormed person of a certain captivating Scotsman rose 
to View in her mind's eye; and, with a peevish 
"pshaw !" she threw the bauble aside. 

Educated for the sole purpose of f orming a brilliant 
establishment^ of catching the eye, and captivating 
the sensés, the cultiration of her mind or the correcr^ 
tîon of her temper had formed no part of the System 
by which that aim was to be accomplished. Under 
the auspices of a fashionable mother and an obsequious 
govemess the froward pétulance of childhood, f ostered 
and strengthened by indulgence and submission, had 
gradually ripened into that selfishness and caprice 
which now, in youth, formed the prominent features 
of her character. The Earl was too much engrossed 



58 MARRIAGK 

by afFairs of importance to pay much attention to any- 
thing so perfectiy insignificant as the mind of his 
daughter. Her person he had predetennined should 
be entirely at his disposai, and therefore contemplated 
"with delight the uncommon beauty which already dia- 
tinguished it ; not with the fond partiality of parental 
love, but with the heartless satisfaction of a crafty 
politician. 

The mind of Lady Juliana was consequently the 
sport of every passion that by tums assailed it Now 
swayed by ambition, and now softened by love, the 
struggle was violent, but it was short A few days 
before the one which was to seal her fate she granted 
an interview to her lover, who, young, thoughtlesa, 
and enamoured as herself, easily succeeded in persuad- 
ing her to elope with him to Scotland. There, at the 
altar of Vulcan, the beautiful daughter of the Earl of 
Courtland gave her hand to her handsome but penni- 
less lover ; and there vowed to immolate every ambi- 
tions désire, every sentiment of vanity and high-bom 
pride. Yet a sigh arose as she looked on the filthy 
hut, sooty priest, and ragged witnesses ; and thought 
of the spécial license, splendid saloon, and bridai 
pomp that would hâve attended her union with the 
Duke. But the rapturous expressions which burst 
from the impassioned Douglas made her forget the 
gaudy pleasures of pomp and fashion. Amid the 
sylvan scènes of the neighbouring lakes the levers 
sought a shelter; and, mutually charmed with each 
other, time flew for a while on downy pinions. 






MARBIAGB. 59 

At the end of two months, however, the enamoured 
husband began to suspect that the lips of his " angel 
Julia " could utter very silly things ; while the fond 
bride, on her part, discovered that though her "adored 
Henry's " figure was symmetry itself, yet it certainly 
was déficient in a certain air — a je ne sçais quoi — that 
marks the man of fashion 

" How I wish I had my pretty Cupid hère," said 
her Ladyship, with a sigh, one day as she loUed on 
a sofa: "he had so many pretty tricks, he would 
hâve helped to amuse us, and make the time pass; 
for really this place grows very stupid and tiresome ; 
don't y ou think so, love 1" 

"Most confoundedly so, my darling," replied her 
husband, yawning sjnnpathetically as he spoke. 

" Then suppose I make one more attempt to soften 
papa, and be received into favour againi" 

"WithaUmy heart" 

" Shall I say Pm very sorry for what I hâve done?" 
asked her Ladyship, with a sigh. " You know I did 
not say that in my first letter." 

"Ay, do; and, if it will serve any purpose, you 
may say that I am no less so." 

In a f ew days the letter was returned, in a blank 
cover; and, by the same post, Douglas saw himself 
superseded in the Gazette, being absent without leave ! 

There now remained but one course to pursue ; and 
that was to seek refuge at his father's, in the High- 
lands of Scotland. At the first mention of it Lady 
Juliana was transported with joy, and begged that a 



60 MABBIA.OX. 

letter might be instantly despatched, containing the 
offer of a visât: she had heard the Duchess of M. 
déclare nothing could be so delightful as the style of 
living in ScoUand : the people were so frank and gay, 
and the manners so ea^y and engaging— oh 1 it was 
delightful ! And then Lady Jane G. and Lady Mary 
L., and a thousand other lords and ladîes she knew, 
were ail so charmed with the country, and ail so sorry 
to leave it Then dear Henry's family must be so 
charming: an old castle, too, was her delight; she 
would f eel quite at home while wandering through its 
long galleries ; and she quite loved old pictures, and 
armour, and tapestry ; and then her thoughts reverted 
to her father's magnificent mansion in D shire. 

At length an answer arrived, containing a cordial 
invitation from the old Laird to spend the winter 
with them at Glenfem Castle. 

Ail impatience to quit the scènes of their short- 
lived felicity, they bade a hasty adieu to the now 
fading beauties of Windermere ; and, full of hope and 
expectation, eagerly tumed towards the bleak hills 
of Scotlani They stopped for a short time at Edin- 
burgh, to provide iàe^lves with a carnage, and 
some other necessaries. There, too, she fortunately 
met with an English Abigail and footman, who, for 
double wages, were prevailed upon to attend her to 
the Highlands ; which, with the addition of two dogs, 
a tame squirrel, and mackaw, completed the establish- 
ment 



CHAPTER II 

•• What transport to retrace our early plays, 
Oar easy blLss, wlien each thing joy supplied ; 
The woods, tlie raountains, and tbe warbling maze 
Of the wild brooks." Tbomson. 

Many were the drear> muirs and rugged mountains 
her Ladyship had to encounter in her progress to 
Glenfem Castle ; and, but for the hope of the new 
world that awaited her beyond those formidable 
barriers, her délicate frame and still more sensitive 
feelings must hâve sunk beneath the horrors of such 
a joumey. But she remembered the Duchess had 
said the inns and roads were exécrable ; and the face 
of the country, as well as the lower orders of people, 
frightful; but what signified those things? There 
were balls, and sailing parties, and rowing matches, 
and shooting parties, and fishing parties, and parties 
of every description ; and the certainty of being re- 
compensed by the festivities of Glenfem Castle, 
reconciled her to the ruggedness of the approach. 

Douglas had left his paternal home and native 
hills when only eight years of âge. A rich relation 
of his mother's happening to visit them at that time, 



. 62 MARRIAGB. 

took a fancy to the boy ; and, under promise of making 
him Lis heir, had prevailed on hîs parents to part with 
hiuL At a proper âge he was placed in the Guards, 
and had continued to maintain himself in the favour 
of his benefactor until his imprudent marriage, which 
had irritated this old bachelor so much that he 
instantly disinherited him, and refused to listen to 
any terms of reconciKation. The impressions which 
the scènes of his infancy had left upon the mind of 
the young Scotsman, it may easily be supposed, were 
of a pleasing description. He expatiated to his 
Juliana on the wild but august scenery that sur- 
rounded his father's castle, a^id associated with the 
idea the boyish exploits, which t^ough faintly re- 
membered, still served to endear them to his heart. 
He spoke of the time when he used to make one of 
a numerous party on the lake, and, when tired of 
sailing on its glassy surface to the sound of soft 
music, they would land at some lovely spot; and, 
ai ter partaking of their banquet beneath a spreading 
tree, conclude the day by a dance oîi the grass. 

Lady Juliana would exclaim, " How delightful ! I 
doat upon picnics and dancing ! — àprqpos, Henry, 
there will surely be a bail to welcome our arrivai ? " 

The conversation was interrupted ; for just at that 
moment they had gained the summit of a very high 
m, and thi post-U. stopping to give hisTorfes 
breath, tumed round to the carriage, pointing at the 
same time, with a significant gesture, to a tall thin 
gray house, something resembling a tower, that stood 



MABBIAGE. 63 

in the vole beneaih. Â small suUen-Iooking lake was 
in front, on whose banks grew neither tree nor shrub. 
Behind rose a chain of rugged cloud-capped hills, on 
the declivities of which were some faint attempts 
at young plantations ; and the only level ground 
consisted of a few dingy tumip fields, enclosed wiih 
stone walls, or dykes, as the post-boy called them. 
It was now November; the day was raw and cold ; and 
a thick drizzling rain was beginning to f alL A dreary 
stîUness reigned ail around, broken only at intervais 
by the screams of the sea-fowl that hovered over the 
lake, on whose dark and troubled waters was dimly 
desmed c( little boat, plied by one solitary being. 

"What a scène!" at length Lady Juliana ez- 
claîmed, shuddering as she spoke. " Good 6od, what 
a scène ! How I pity the unhappy wretches who are 
doomed to dwell in such a place ! and yonder hideous 
grim house — it makes me sick to look at it For 
Heaven's sake, bid him drive on.'' Another signifi- 
cant look from the driver made the colour mount to 
Douglas's cheek, as he stammered out^ " Surely it can't 
be; yet somehow I don't know. Pray, my lad," 
letting down one of the glasses, and addressing the 
post-boy, "what is the name of that house î" 

" Hoose ! " repeated the driver ; " ca' ye thon a 
hoose ? Thon's gude Glenfem Castle." 

Lady Juliana, not understanding a word he said, sat 
silently wondering at her husband's curiosity respect- 
ing such a wretched-looking place. 

"Impossible! you must be mistaken, my lad: 



64 MASRIÂGE. 

why, what's become of ail the fine wood tbat used to 
surround it î " 

"Gin you mean a wheen auld firs, there's some 
o' them to the fore yet," 'pointing to two or three tall, 
bare, scathed Scotch firs, that scarcely bent thehr 
stubbom heads to the wind, that now began to howl 
around them. 

" I însist upon it that you are mistaken ; you must 
hâve wandered from the rîght road/' cried the now 
alarmed Douglas in a loud voice, which yainly 
attempted to conceal his agitation. 

"We'll shune see that^" replied the phlegmatie 
Scot, who, having rested his horses and affixed a 
drag to the wheel, was about to proceed, when Lady 
Juliana, who now began to hâve some vague suspicion 
of the truth, called to him to stop, and, ahnost breath- 
less with alarm, inquired of her husband the meaning 
of what had passed. 

He tried to force a smile, as he said, ''It sèems 
our joumey is nearly ended ; that fellow persista in 
asserting that that is Glenfem, though I can scarcely 
think it If it is, it is strangely altered since I left it 
twelve years ago." 

For a moment Lady Juliana was too much alarmed 
to make a reply ; pale and speechless, she sank back 
in the carriage ; but the motion of it, as it began to 
proceed, roused her to a sensé of her situation, and 
she burst into tears and exclamations. 

The driver, who attributed it ail to fears at d©- 
scending the hill, assured her she need na be the least 



KABRIAGS. ^ 66 

feared, for there were na twa cannier beasts atween 
that and Johnny Groat's hoose ; and that they wad 
ha'e her at the castle door in a crack, gin they were 
ance down the bra&" 

Donglas's attempts to soothe his hîgh-bom bride 
were not more successful than those of the driver : in 
Tain he made use of every endearing epithet and 
tender expression, and recalled the tîme when she 
used to dedare that she could dwell with him in a 
désert j her only replies were bitter reproaches and 
npbraidings for his treachery and deceit^ mingled with 
floodfl of tears, and intermpted by hysterical sobs. 
Provoked at her fofly, yet softened by her extrême 
distress, Douglas was in the utmost state of per- 
plexity — now ready to give way to a paroxysm of 
rage; then yielding to the natural goodness of his 
heart, he sought to soothe her into composure ; and, 
at length, with much diffîculty succeeded in changing 
her passionate indignation into silent déjection. 

That no fresh objects of horror or disgust might 
appear to disturb this calm, the blinds were palled 
down, and in this state they reached Glenf ern Castle. 
But there the friendly veil was necessarily withdrawn, 
and the first object that presented itself to the high- 
bred Englishwoman was an old man clad in a short 
tartan coat and striped wooUen night-cap, with blear 
eyes and shaking hands, who vainly strove to open 
the carriage door. 

Douglas soon extricated himself, and assisted his 
Ifidy to alight ; then accosting the vénérable dômes- 

VOL. I. F M. 



66 HASBIAQE. 

tic as "Old Donald," asked him if he reoollected 
him. 

"Weel that) weel that^ Maister Hairy, and ye're 
welcome hame ; and ye tu, bonny sir " ^ (addressing 
Lady Jnliana, who was calling to her footman to 
f ollow her with the mackaw) ; then, tottering bef oie 
them, he led the way, while her Ladyship followed, 
leaning on her husband, her squirrel on her other 
ann, preceded by her dogs, barking with ail their 
might^ and attended by the mackaw, screaming with 
àU his strength ; and in this state was the Lady Juliana 
ushered into the drawing-room of Glenf em Gastle ! 

^ The Highlanders use this term of respect indifferently to 
both aezeSi 



CHAPTER m 

'* What can be worse, 

Than to dwell hère ?" 

ParadiseLoêL 

It was a long, narrow, low-roof ed room, with a number 
of «mail Windows, that admitted feeble lights in every 
possible directioa The scanty f umiture bore every 
appearance of having been constructed at the same 
time as the édifice; and the friendship thus early 
formed stiU seemed to subsist, as the high-backed 
worked chairs adhered most pertinaciously to the gray 
walls, on which hung, in narrow black frames, some 
of the vénérable ancestors of the Douglas family. A 
fire, which appeared to hâve been newly kindled, was 
beginning to bum, but, previous to showing itself in 
flame, had chosen to vent itself in smoke, with which 
the room was completely filled, and the open Windows 
seemed to produce no other effect than that of admit- 
ting the rain and wind 

At the entrance of the strangers a flock of females 
rushed f orward to meet them. Douglas good humour- 
edly submitted to be hugged by three long-chinned 
spinsters, whom he recognised as his aunts; and 
warmly saluted five awkward purple girls he guessed 



68 MARRIAGE. 

to be hîs sîsters ; while Lady Juliana stood the image 
of despaîr, and, scarcely conscious, admitted in silence 
the civilities of her new relations ; till, at length, sink- 
ing into a chair, she endeavoured to conceal her 
agitation by calling to the dogs, and caressing her 
mackaw. 

The Laird, who had been hastily summoned from 
hisfarming opérations, nowentereZ Hewasagood- 
looking old man, with something the air of a gentle- 
man, in spite of the inélégance of his dress, his rough 
manner, and provincial accent After warmly welcom- 
ing his son, he advanced to his beautiful daughter-in- 
law, and, taJdng her in his arms, bestowed a loud and 
hearty kiss on each cheek ; then, observing the pale- 
ness of her complexion, and the tears that swam in 
her eyes, "Whatl not frightened for our Hieland 
hills, my leddy î Corne, cheer up — ^trust me, ye*ll find 
as warm hearts among them as ony ye ha'e lef t in your 
fine English polides " — shaking her délicate fingers in 
his hard muscular gripe as he spoka 

The tears, which had with difficulty been hitherto 
suppressed, now burst in torrents from the eyes of 
the high-bred beauty, as she leant her cheek against 
the back of a chair, and gave way to the anguish 
which mocked controL 

To the loud, anxious inquiries, and oppressive 
kindness of her homely relatives, she made no reply ; 
but^ stretching out her hands to her husband, sobbed, 
**Take, oh, take me from this place !" 

Mortified, ashamed, and provoked, at a behaviour 



MABRIAGE. 69 

80 childish and absurd, Douglas could only stammer 
out something about Lady Juliana having been 
frigbtened and fatîgued ; and, requesting to be shown 
to their apartment, he supported her almost lifeless 
to it) while bis aiints foUowed, ail three prescribing 
différent remédies in a breatL 

**For heaven's sake, take them from me!" faîntly 
articnlated Lady Juliana, as sbe shrank from the 
many bands tbat were altemately applied to ber puise 
and f orehead. 

After repeated entreaties and plausible excuses 
from Douglas, bis aunts at lengtb consented to with- 
draw, and be tben exerted ail the rhetoric be was 
master of to reconcile bis bride to tbe situation love 
and necessity bad tbrown ber into. But in vain be 
employed reasoning, caresses, and threats; tbe only 
answers be could eztort were tears and entreaties to 
be taken from a place wbere sbe declared sbe f elt it 
impossible to exist 

"H you wisb my deatb, Harry," said sbe, in a 
voice aLost inarti<kate from e.cess of weeping. 
*^ob! kill me quickly, and do not leave me to 
linger out my days, and perisb at last witb misery 
hère." 

" For heaven's sake, tell me what you would bave 
me do," said ber busband, softened to pity by ber 
extrême distress, "ahd I swear tbat in everything 
possible I will comply witb your wisbes." 

" Oh, fly tben, stop tbe horses, and let us retum 
immediately. Do run, dearest Harry, or they will be 



70 MARRIAGB. 

gone ; and we shall never get away from this odîous 
place." 

" Where would you go ? " asked he, with affected 
calmness. 

''Oh, anywhere; no matter whers, so as we do 
but get away from hence : we can be at no loss." 

" None in the world," interrupted Douglas, with a 
bitter smile, " as long as there is a prison to reçoive 
us. See," continued he, throwing a few shillings down 
on the table, '' there is every sixpence I possess in the 
world, so help me heaven I " 

Lady Juliana stood aghast 

At that instant the English Abigail burst into the 
room, and in a voice choking with passion, she 
requested her discharge, that she might retum with 
the driver who had brought them there. 

"A pretty way of travelling, to be sure, it will 
be," continued she, " to go bumping behind a dirty 
chaise-driver ; but better to be shook to a jelly alto- 
gether than stay amongst such a set of Oaien-toads.*' ^ 

"What do you meanî" inquired Douglas, as 
soon as the voluble Abigail allowed him an oppor- 
tunity of asking. 

" Why, my meaning, sir, is to leave this hère place 
immediately ; not that I hâve any objections cither to 
my Lady or you, sir ; but, to be sure, it was a sad 
day for me that I engaged myself to her Ladyship. 
Little did I think that a lady of distinction would 
be coming to such a poor pitiful place as this. I am 

^ Hotteotots. 



MAKRUGE. 71 

mire I thought I should ha' swooned when I was 
dbowed the hole where I was to sleep." 

At the bare idea of this indignity to her person 
the fury of the incensed fair one blazed forth with 
such strength as to choke her utterance. 

Amazement had hitherto kept Lady Julîana silent ; 
for to such scènes she was a stranger. Bom in an 
elevated rank, reared in state, accustomed to the most 
obsequious attention, and never approached but with 
the respect due rather to a divvnUy than to a mortal, 
the strain of vulgar insolence that now assailed her 
was no less new to her ears than shocking to her f eel- 
ings. With a voice and look that awed the woman 
into obédience, she commanded her to quit her présence 
for ever; and then, no longer able to suppress the 
émotions of insulted pride, wounded vanity, and in- 
dignant disappointment, she gave way to a violent fit 
of hystéries. 

In the utmost perplexity the unfortunate husband 
by tums cursed the hour that had given him such 
a wif e ; now tried to soothe her into composure ; but 
at length, seriously alarmed at the increasing attack, 
he called loudly for assistance 

In a moment the three aunts and the five sisters ail 
mshed together into the room, full of wonder, exclama- 
tion, and inquiry. Many were the remédies that were 
tried and the experiments that were suggested; and at 
length the violence of passion exhausted itself, and a 
faint sob or deep sigh succeeded the hystérie scream. 

Douglas now attempted to account for the behaviour 



72 MABRIAGE. 

of his noble spouse by ascrîbîng ît to the fatigue she 
had lately undergone, joîned to distress of mind at 
her f ather's unrelentîng severity towards her. 

" Oh, the amiable créature 1 " interrupted the um- 
snspecting spinsters, almost stifling her with their 
caresses as they spoke : " Welcome, a thousand times 
welcome, to Glenfem Castle," said Miss Jacky, who 
was esteemed by much the most sensible woman, as 
well as the greatest orator in the whole parish; 
" nothing shall be wanting, dearest Lady Juliai^a, to 
compensate for a parentes rigour, and make you happy 
and comfortable. Consider this as your future home ! 
My sisters and myself will be as mothers to you ; and 
see thèse charming young créatures," dragging for- 
ward two tall frightened girls, with sandy hair and 
great purple arms; "thank Providence for having 
blest you with such sisters!" "Don't speak too 
much, Jacky, to our dear nièce at présent," said Miss 
Grizzy; "I think one of Lady Maclaughlan's com- 
posing draughts would be the best thing for her." 

"Composing draughts at this time of day !" crîed 
Miss Nicky; "I should think a little good broth a 
much wiser thing. There are some excellent family 
broth making below, and l'U désire Tibby to bring 
a few." 

" Will you take a little soup, love 1" asked Douglas. 
His lady assented; and Miss Nicky vanished, but 
quickly re-entered, f oUowed by Tibby, carrying a huge 
bowl of coarse broth, swimming with leeks, greens, 
and grease. Lady Juliana attempted to taste it ; but 



tfABBIAQlB. 73 

her délicate palate revolted at the homely f are ; and 
she gave up lihe attempt, in spite of Miss Nicky's 
eamest entreaties to take a f ew more of thèse excellent 
f amily broth. 

''I should think," said Henry, as he vaînly at- 
tempted to sdr it round, " that a little wine would be 
more to the pnipose than this stuff." 

The aunts looked at each other; and, withdraw- 
ing to a corner, a whispering consultation took place, 
in which Lady Maclaughlan's opinion, " birch, balm, 
currant, heating, cooling, running risks," etc. etc., 
transpired. Ât length the question was carried ; and 
some tolerable sherry and a pièce of very substantial 
dwrthrecd were produced. 

It was now voted by Miss Jacky, and carried nem, 
con. that her Ladyship ought to take a little repose 
tiU the hour of dinner. 

"And don't trouble to dress," continued the con- 
siderate aunt, " for we are not very dressy hère ; and 
we are to be quite a chanmng family party, nobody 
but ourselves ; and," tuming to her nephew, " your 
brother and his wif a She is a most superîor woman, 
though she has rather too many of her English pré- 
judices y et to be ail we could wish ; but I hâve no 
doubt, when she has lived a little longer amongst ua, 
she will just become one of ourselves." 
I forget who she was," said Douglas. 
A grand -daughter of Sir Duncan Malcolm's, a 

very old family of the blood, and nearly allied 

to the présent EarL And hère they come," exclaimed 






74 MÀBRIAGE. 

8he, on hearing the sound of a carnage ; and ail rushed 
out to receive them. 

" Let us hâve a glimpse of this scion from a noble 
stock," saîd Lady Juliana, mimicking the accent of 
the poor spînsters, as she rose and ran to the window. 

" Gk)od heavens, Hemy ! do corne and behold this 
équipage ;" and she laughed with childish glee as she 
pointed to a pkin, old-f ashioned whisky, with a krge 
top. A tall handsome young man now alighted, and 
lifted out a female figure, so enveloped in a cloak 
that eyes less penetrating than Lady Juliana's could 
not, at a single glance, hâve discovered her to be a 
"frightfulquiz." 

" Only conceive the efltect of this dashing équipage 
in Bond Street !" continued she, redoubling her mirth 
at the bright idea; thei^ suddenly stopping, and sigh- 
ing — " Ah, my pretty vis-à-vis / I remember the first 
tîme I saw you, Henry, I was in it at a review j" and 
she sighed stiU deeper. 

"True; I was then aid-de camp to your handsome 
lover, the Duke of L " 

"Perhaps I might think him handsome now. 
People's tastes alter according to circumstances." 

" Yours must hâve undergone a wonderf ul révolu- 
tion, if you can find charms in a hunchback of fifty- 
three." 

" He is not a hunchback," retumed her Ladyship 
warmly ; " only a little high shouldered ; but at any- 
rate he bas the most beautiful place and the finest 
house in England." 



MARRIAGE. 75 

Douglas saw the storm gathering on the brow of his 
capricious wife, and clasping her in his arms, "Are you 
indeed so changed, my Julia, that you hâve f orgot the 
time when you used to déclare you would prefer a 
désert with your Henry to a throne with another." 

"No, certainly, not changed; but — I — ^I did not 
very well know then what a désert was ; or, at least^ 
I had formed rather a différent idea of it" 

"What was your idea of a désert î" said her 
husband, laughing. "Do tell me, love." 

"Oh! I had fancied it a beautiful place, full of 
roses and myrtles, and smooth green turf, and mur- 
mming rivulets, and, though very retired, not abso- 
lutely out of the world ; where one could occasionally 
see one's friends, and give dejemiés et fêtes champêtres.^* 

" Well, perhaps the time may corne, Juliana, when 
we may realise your Elysian déserts ; but at présent, 
you know, I am whoUy dépendent on my f ather. I 
hope to prevail on him to do something. for me ; and 
that our stay hère will be short ; as, you may be sure, 
the moment I can, I will take you hence. I am sen- 
sible it is not a situation for you; but for mysake, 
dearest Juliana, bear with it for a while, without be- 
trajdng your disgust Will you do this, darling ?" and 
he kissed away the suUen tear that hung on her cheek. 

" You know, love, there's nothing in the world I 
wouldn't do for you," replied she, as she played with 
her squirreli " and as you promise our stay shaU be 
shorÇifi "obf^t die of the horrors I shall certainly 
try to make tne agreeable. Oh ! my cherub !" flying 



76 MABRIÀGE. 

to her pug, who came barking înto the room, " where 
hâve you been, and where's my darling Psyché, and 
sweet mackaw? Do, Harry, go and see after the 
darlings." 

" I must go and see my brother and his wif e first. 
Will you come, love V* 

" Oh, not now ; I don't feel equal to the encounter ; 
besides, I must dress. But what shall I do ) Since 
that vile woman's gone I can't dress myseK. I never 
dîd such a thing in my Uf e, and I am sure it's impos- 
sible that I can," almost weeping at the hardships she 
was doomed to expérience in making her own toilet 

'^ Shall I be your Abigailf' asked her husband, 
smiling at the distress; ^'methinks it would be no 
difficult task to deck my Juha." 

" Dear Harry, will you really dress me 1 Oh ! that 
will be dehghtf ul ! I shall die with laughing at your 
awkwardness ;'' and her beautiful eyes sparkled with 
cbildish delight at the idea. 

''In the meantime," said Douglas, 'TU send some 
one to unpack your things ; and after I hâve shook 
hands with Archie, and been introduced to my new 
BÎster, I shall enter on my office." 

" Now do, pray, make haste ; for I die to see your 
great hands tying strings and sticking pins." 

Delighted with her gaiety and good humour, he 
lef t her caressing her f avourites ; and finding rather a 
scarcity of f emale attendance, he despatched two of his 
sisters to assist his helpless beauty in her arrange- 
ment& 



.-V, A 



OHAPTER IV. 

''And eyer against eating carea^ 

Lap me in soft Lydian aiis." 

VAHsgro. 

Whsn Douglas retumed he found the floor strewed 
wîth dresses of every description, his sisters on their 
knees before a great triink they were busied in un- 
packing, and his Lady in her wrapper, with her hair 
about her ears, still amusing herself with her pets. 

" See how good your sisters are," said she, pointing 
to the poor girls, whose inflamed faces bore testimony 
to their labours. '^ I déclare I am quite sorry to see 
them take so much trouble," yawning as she leant 
back in her chair ; " is it not quite shocking, Tommy 1" 
kissing her squirreL " Oh ! pray, Henry, do tell me 
what I am to put on; for I protest I don't know. 
Favolle always used to choose for me ; and so did that 
odious Martin, for she had an exquisite taste.'' 

*' Not so exquisite as your own, I am sure ; so for 
once choose for yourself," replied the good-humoured 
husband; "and pray make haste, for my father waits 
dinner." 

Betwixt scolding, laughing, and blundering, the 
dress was at length completed ; and Lady Juliana, in 



78 MAEEUGE. 

ail the pomp of dress and prîde of beauty, descended, 
leaning on her husband's arm. 

On entering the drawing-room, which was now in 
a more comfortable state, Douglas led her to a lady 
who was sitting by the fire: and, placing her hand 
within that of the stranger, " Juliana, my love," said 
he, " this is a sister whom you hâve not yet seen, and 
with whom I am sure you will gladly make acquaint- 
anoe.* 

The stranger received her noble sister with gracef ul 
ease; and, with a sweet smile and pleasing accent, 
expressed herself happy in the introduction. Lady 
Juliana was surprised and somewhat disconcerted. 
She had arranged her plans, and made up her mind 
to be condesœnding ; she had resolved to enchant by 
her sweetness, dazzle by her brilliancy, and overpower 
by her affability. But there was a simple dignity 
in the air and address of the lady, before which even 
high-bred affectation sank abashed. Before she f ound 
a reply to the courteous yet respectful salutation of 
her sister-in-law Douglas introduced his brother; and 
the old gentleman, impatient at any farther delay, 
taking Lady Juliana by the hand, pulled, rather than 
led her into the dining-room. 

Even Lady Juliana contrived to make a meal of 
the roast mutton and moorfowl ; for the Laird piqued 
himself on the breed of his sheep, and his son was too 
good a sportsman to allow his friends to want for 
game. 

" I think my darling Tommy would relish this 



MARRIÀGE. 79 

grouse very much," observed Lady Juliana, as she 
secured the last remaining wing for her favourite. 
" Bring him hère !" tuming to the tall, dashiiig lackey 
who stood behind her chair, and whose handsome 
liveiy and weU-dreased hair formed a steiking con- 
trast to old Donald's tartan jacket and bob-wig. 

"Corne hither, mj sweetest cherubs," extending 
her arms towards the charming trio, as they entered, 
barking, and chatterîng, and flying to their mistress. 
A scène of noise and nonsense ensued. 

Douglas remained silent, mortified and provoked 
at the weakness of his wif e, which not even the silver 
tones of her voice or the élégance of her manners 
could longer conceal from him. But still there was a 
eharm in her very folly, to the eye of love, which had 
not yet wholly lost its power. 

After the table was cleared, observîng that he was 
still silent and abstracted, Lady Juliana tumed to her 
husband, and, laying her hand on his shoulder, " You 
are not well, love !" said she, looking up in his face, 
and shaking back the redundant ringlets that shaded 
her own. 

" Perf ectly so, " replied her husband, with a sigh. 

" What ? dull î Then I must sing to enliven you. " 

Ând, leaning her head on his shoulder, she warbled 
a verse of the beautiful Kttle Venetian air, La Bion- 
dina in Gondoletta, Then suddenly stopping, and 
fixing her eyes on Mrs. Douglas, "I beg pardon, 
perhaps you don't like music ; perhaps my singing's a 
bore. " 



80 MARRIAGE. 

'* Tou pay us a bad compliment in saying so," saîd 
her sister-in-law, smiling; "and the only atonement 
you can make for such f«Q injurions doubt is to pro- 
ceed." 

"Does anybody sing herel" asked she, without 
noticing this request "Do, somebody, sing me a 
song." 

" Oh ! we ail sing, and dance too," said one of the 
old young ladies ; " and after tea we will show you 
some of our Scotch steps ; but in the meantime Mrs. 
Douglas will favour us with her song." 

Mrs. Douglas assented good-humouredly, though 
aware that it would be rather a nice point to please 
ail parties in the choice of a song. The Laird 
reckoned ail foreign music — ie, everything that was not 
Scotch — an outrage upon his ears ; and Mrs. Douglas 
had too much taste to murder Scotch songs with her 
English accent She theref ore compromised the matter 
as well as she could by selecting a Highland ditty 
clothed in her own native tongue ; and sang with 
much pathos and simplicity the lamented Leyden's 
"Fall of Macgregor :" 



« 



In the vale of Glenorchy the night breeze was sighing 
O'er the tomb where the ancient Macgregors are lying ; 
Green are their graves by their soft murmiiring river, 
But the name of Macgregor has perished for ever. 

** On a red stream of light, by his gray mountains glancingi 
Soon I beheld a dim spirit advancing ; 
Slow o'er the heath of the dead was its motion, 
lâke the shadow of mist o'er the foam of the ooean. 



MABBÎAaS. 81 

" Uke fhe soTmd of a stream ihrongli fhe stOl evening dyîng^— 
Stranger ! who treads where Macgregor is lying ? 
Darest thon to walk, miappall'd and fiim-hearted, 
'Mid the shadoney steps of the mighty depaited t 

" See ! ronnd thee the caves of the dead aie disdosmg 
The shades that hâve long been in silence leposing ; 
Thro' their forms dimly twinkles the moon-beam descending, 
As npon thee their red eyes of wrath they are bending. 

** Our gray stones of famé thongh the heath-blossom cover, 
Round ihe fields of onr battles our spirits still hover ; 
Where we oft saw the streams running red from the moun- 

tains ; 
But dark are our forms by our bine native fonntaina 

*' For our famé melts away like the foam of the river, 
Lîke the last yellow leaves on the oak-boughs that àhiver * 
The name is unknown of our fathers so gallant ; 
And our blood beats no more in the breasts of the valiant. 

" The hunter of red deer now cesses to nnmber 
The lonely gray stones on the field of our slumber.— 
Fly, stranger ! and let not thine eye be reverted ; 
Why should'st thou see that our famé is departed ? " 

" Pray, do you play on the harp ?" asked the vola- 
tile lady, scarcely waîting till the first stanza was 
ended ; " and, wpropoSy hâve you a good harp hère V' 

WeVe a very sweet spinnet^" said Miss Jacky, 
** which, in my opinion, is a far superior instrument : 
and Bella will gîve us a tune upon it Bella, my dear, 
let Lady Juliana hear how well you can play. '* 

Bella, blushing like a peony rose, retired to a 
corner of the room, where stood the spinnet ; and wîth 
great^ heavy, trembling hands, began to belabonr the 
unfortunate instrument^ while the aunts beat time^ 

VOL. La «. 



82 MABRIAGE. . 

and encouraged her to proceed with exclamations of 
admiration and applause. 

"You hâve done very well, Bella^" said Mrs. 
Douglas, seeing her preparing to exécute another pièce, 
and pitying the poor girl, as well as her auditors. 
Then whispering Miss Jacky that Lady Juliana looked 
fatîgued, they arose to quit the room. 

"Give me your arm, love, to the drawing-room," 
said her Ladyship languidly. " And now, pray, don't 
be long away," continued she, as he placed her on the 
sofa, and retumed to the gentlemen. 






CHAPTER V. 

** Yon haye displaced the mirth, broke the good meetings 
With most admired disorder." Macbeth 

The intervaJ, which seemed of endless duratîon to 
the hapless Lady Juliana, was passed by the aunts in 
giving sage counsel as to the course of life to be 
pursued by married ladies. Worsted stocldiigs and 
quilted petticoats were insisted upon as indispensable 
aHicles of dress ; while it was plainly insinuated that 
it was utterly impossible any child could be healthy 
whose mbther had not confined her wishes to barley 
broth and oatmeal porridge. 

" Only look at thae yoiing lambs," said Miss Grizzy, 
pointing to the five great girls; "see what pickters 
of health they are ! l'm sure I hope, my dear nièce, 
your children will be just the same — only boys, for 
we are sadly in want of boys. It's melancholy to 
think we hâve not a boy among us, and that a fine 
auntient race like ours should be dying away for want 
of maie heirs." And the tears streamed down the 
cheeks of the good spinster as she spoke. 

The entrance of the gentlemen put a stop to the 
conversation. 

Flying to her husband, Lady Juliana began to 



84 MABBIAOS. 

whisper, in veiy audible tones, her inquiries, whether 
he had yet got any money — ^when they were to go 
away, eta eta 

" Does your Ladysbip choose any tea î" asked Miss 
Nicky, as she disseniinated the little cups of coarse 
black liquid. 

*'Tea! oh no, I never drink tea. 111 take some 
coffee though j and Psyché doats on a dish of tea." And 
she tendered the beverage that had been intended 
for herself to her f avourite. 

"Here's no coffee," said Douglas, surveying the 
tea-table; "but I will ring for some," as he pulled 
the belL 

Old Donald answered the summons. 

"Where's the coflFeeî" demanded Miss Nicky. 

"The coffee!" repeated the Highlander; "troth, 
Miss Nicky, an* it's been clean forgot." 

" Well, but you can get it yet ? " said Douglaa 

" 'Deed, Maister Harry, the night's owre far gane 
for't noo : for the fire*s a' ta'en up, ye see," reckoning 
with his fingers. a« he proceedeS; " t Ws parritch 
makin' for oor supper; and there's patatees boihng 
for the beasts ; and " 

"l'il see about it myself," said Miss Nicky, leaving 
the room, with old Donald at her back, muttering ail 
the way. 

The old Laird, ail this while, had been enjoying 
his evening nap ; but, that now ended, and the tea 
équipage being dismissed, starting up, he asked what 
they were about, that the dancing was not begun. 



MABBIAGIL 86 

" Corne, mj Leddy, we'll set the example," snapping 
his fingers, and singing in a hoajse voice, 

" The mouse is a merry beastie, 
And the moudiwort wants the een ; 
But folk sali ne'er get wit, 
8ae merry as we twa ha*6 been.' 

" But whar's the girlies ? " cried ha " Ho ! Belle, 
Becky, Betty, Baby, Beeny — ^to your posts ! " 

The young ladîes, eager for the delights of mnsio 
and dancing, now entered, followed by Coil, the piper, 
dressed in the native garb, with cheeks seemingly 
ready blown for the occasion. After a little struttîng 
and puffing, the pipes were fairly set agoing in Goil's 
most spirited manner. But vain would be the attempt 
to describe Lady Juliana's horror and amazement at 
the hideous sounds that for the first time assaîled her 
ear. Tearing herself from the grasp of the old gentle- 
man, who was just setting off in the réel, she flew 
shrieking to her husband, and threw herself trembling 
into his arms, while he called loudly to the self- 
delighted Coil to stop. 

"What's the matterf what's the matterl" cried 
the whole f$.niily, gathering round. 

" Matter ! " repeated Douglas furiously ; " you hâve 
frightened Lady Juliana to death with your infernal 
musia What did you mean," tuming fiercely to 
the astonished piper, ''by blowing that confounded 
bladdert" 

Poor Coil gaped with astonislmient; for never 



86 MAERIAGB. 

before had hîs performance on the bagpipe been heard 
but with admiration and applause. 

"A bonny bargain, indeed, that canna stand the 
pipes," said the old gentleman, as he went puffing up 
and down the room. " She's no the wife for a Heeland- 
man. Confoonded blather, indeed! By my faith, 
ye^re no blate ! " 

"I déclare it's the most distressing thing I ever 
lïiet with," sighed Miss Grizzy. " I wonder whether 
ît could be the sight or the sound of the bagpipe that 
frightened our dear nièce. I wish to goodness Lady 
Maclaughlan was hère ! " 

"Ifs impossible the bagpipe could frighten any- 
body," said Miss Jacky, in a high key ; " nobody 
with common sensé could be frightened at a bag- 
pipe." 

Mrs. Douglas hère mildly interposed, and soothed 
down the offended pride of the Highlanders by attri- 
buting Lady Juliana*s agitation entirely to surprise, 
The Word operated like a charm ; ail were ready to 
admit that it waa a surprising thing when heard for the 
first tima Miss Jacky remarked that we are ail liable 
to be surprised ; and the still more sapient Grizzy said 
that, indeed, it was most surprising the eflfect that 
surprise had upon some people. For her own part, 
she could not deny but that she was very often 
frightened when she was surprised. 

Douglas, meanwhile, was employed in soothing the 
terrors, real or aflFected, of hîs délicate bride, who 
declared herself so exhausted with the fatigue she 



MARRIAGE. 87 

had andergone, and the sufferîngs she had endured, 
that she must retire for the night Henry, eager to 
escape from the questions and remarks of his family, 
gladly availed himself of the same excuse ; and, to 
the infinité mortification of both aunts and nièces, 
the bail was broken up. 



CHAPTEE VL 

*• What choice to choose for delicacy beat." 

MiLTON. 

Of what nature were the remarks passed in the 
parleur upen the new married couple bas not reached 
the writer of thèse memoirs with as much exactness 
as the foregoing circumstances ; but they may in part 
be imagined from the sketch already given of the 
characters which formed the Glenfern party. The 
conciliatory indulgence of Mrs. Douglas, when aided 
by the good-natured Miss Grizzy, doubtless had a 
favourable eflect on the irritated pride but short-lived 
acrimony of the old gentleman. Certain it is that^ 
before the evening concluded, they appeared ail re- 
stored to harmony, and retired to their respective 
chambers in hopes of beholding a more propitious 
morrow. 

Who bas not perused sonnets, odes, and speeches 
in praise of that balmy blessing sleep; from the 
divine effusions of Shakespeare down to the drowsy 
notes of newspaper poets î 

Yet cannot too much be said in its commendation. 
Sweet is its influence on the carewom eyes to tears 



MARRIAGE. 89 

accustomed. In its anns the statesman forgets his 
liarassed thoughts j the weary and the poor are blessed 
with its charma ; and conscience — even conscience — 
is sometimes soothed into silence, while the sufferer 
sleepa But nowhere, perhaps, is its influence more 
happily felt than in the heart oppressed by the har- 
assing accumulation of petty ills; like a troop of 
locusts, making up by their number and their stings 
what thej want in magnituda 

Moytified pride in discovering the fallacy of our 
own judgment ; to be ashamed of what we love, yet 
still to love, are f eelings most unpleasant ; and though 
they assume not the dignity of deep distress, yet 
philosophy has scarce any power to soothe their 
worrying, incessant annoyanca Douglas was glad to 
forget himself in sleep. He had thought a vast deal 
that day, and of unpleasant subjects, more than the 
whole of his foregoing life would hâve produced. If 
he did not curse the fair object of his imprudence, 
he at least cursed his own folly and himself; and 
thèse were his last waking thoughts. 

But Douglas could not repose as long as the seven 
sleepers, and, in conséquence of having retired sooner 
to bed than he was accustomed to do, he waked at an 
early hour in the morning. 

The wonderful activity which people sometimes 
f eel when they hâve Httle to do with their bodies, and 
less with their minds, caused him to rise hastily and 
dress, hoping to pick up a new set of ideas by virtue 
of his locomotive power& 



90 MARRIAGE. 

On descendîng to the dinîng-parlour he found hîs 
father seated at the window, carefully perusing a 
pamphlet written to illustrate the principle, Ld 
nothing he lost, and containing many sage and erudite 
directions for the composition and dimensions of that 
omament to a gentleman's farmyard, and a cottager's 
front door, ycleped, in the language of the country, a 
midden — with the signification of which we would not, 
for the world, shock the more refined feelings of our 
southem readers. • 

Many were the inquiries about dear Lady Juliana ; 
hoped she had rested well ; hoped they found the bed 
comfortable, etc. etc. Thèse inquiries were inter- 
rupted by the Laird, who requested his son to take 
a tum with him while breakfast was getting ready, 
that they might talk over past events and new plans ; 
that he might see the new planting on the hill ; the 
draining of the great moss; with other agricultural 
concems which we shall omit, not having the same 
power of commanding attention for our readers as 
the Laird had from his hearers. 

After repeated summonses and many inquiries 
from the impatient party already assembled round the 
breakfast table, Lady Juliana made her appearance, 
accompanied by her favourites, whom no.persuasions of 
her husband could prevail upon her to leave behind. 

As she entered the room her olfactory nerves were 
smote with gales, not of " Araby the blest," but of old 
cheese and herrings, with which the hospitable board 
was amply provided. 



MABRIAGE. 91 

The ladies having severally exchanged the salu- 
tations of the moming, Miss Nicky commenced the 
opération of pouring ont tea, while the Laird laid 
a large pièce of herring on her Ladyship's plata 

"Good heavens! what am I to do with thisî" 
exclaimed sha " Do take it away, or I shall faint ! '' 

"Brother, brother!" cried Mîss Grizzy in a tone 
of alarm, *'I beg you won't place any unpleasant 
object before the eyes of our dear nièce. I déclare ! 
Pray, was it the sight or the sniell of the beast^ 
that shocked you so much, my dear Lady Juliana 1 
l'm sure I wish to goodness Lady Maclaughlan was 
corne!'' 

Mr. Douglas, or the Major, as he was styled, imme- 
diately rose and pulled the belL 

"Désire my gig to be got ready directly!" saîd 
ha 

The aunts drew up stiffly, and looked at each other 
without speaking; but the old gentleman expressed 
his surprise that his son should think of leaving them 
80 soon. 

" May we inquire the reason of this sudden resolu- 
tion 1" at length said Miss Jacky in a tone of stifled 
indignation. 

" Certainly, if you are disposed to hear it ; it is 
because I find that there is company expected.'' 

The three ladies tumed up their hands and eyes in 
speechless horror. 

^ In Scotland eyerytliiiig that Aies and swims ranks in the 
bestial tribe. 



92 HÀBRUGE. 

*'l8 it that virtuous woman Lady Maclaughlan 
yon would shun, nephewf' demanded Miss Jacky. 

'^It is that insufferable woman I would shon," 
replîed her nephew, with a heightened colour and a 
violence yery unusual with him. 

The good Miss Grizzy drew ont her pocket-hand- 
kerchiei, while Mrs. Douglas yaînly endeavoured to 
silence her husband, and avert the rising storm. 

'^Dear Douglas 1" whispered his wife in a tone of 
reproacL 

'' Oh, pray let him go on/' saîd Miss Jacky, almost 
choking under the effort she made to appear calm. 
^' Let him go on. Lady Maclaughlaji's character, luckily, 
is far above the reach of calumny ; nothing that Mr. 
Archibald Douglas can say will haye power to change 
our opinions, or, I hope, to préjudice his brother and 
Lady Juliana against this most exemplary, yirtuous 
woman — ^a woman of f amily — of fortune — of talents — 
of accomplishments ; a woman of unblemished réputa- 
tion — of the strictest morals, sweetest temper, charm- 
ing heart, delightful spirits, so charitable — eyery year 
giyes fifty flannel petticoats to the old people of the 
parish ^ 

"Then such a wife as she is!" sobbed out Miss 
Grizzy. " She has invented I don't know how many 
différent medicines for Sir Sampson's complaint, and 
makes a point of his taking some of them eyery day ; 
but for her Fm sure he would haye been in his graye 
long ago." 

^'She's doing ail she can to send him there, as 



MARBIAGE. 9S 

she bas done many a poor wretch alreadji with her 
infernal compositions.'' 

Hère Miss Grrizzy sank back in her chair, overcome 
with horror ; and Miss Nicky let f ail the teapot^ the 
scalding contents of which discharged themselves upon 
the unfortunate Psyché, whose yells, mingling with 
the screams of its fair mistress, for a while drowned 
even Miss Jacky's oratory. 

" Oh, what shall I do V cried Lady Juliana, as she 
bent over her favourite. '^Do send for a surgeon; 
pray, Henry, fly ! Do f etch one directly, or she will 
die; and it would quite kill me to lose my darHng. 
Do run, dearest Harry !" 

'^My dear Julia, how can you be so absurdi 
There's no surgeon within twenty miles of this." 

" No surgeon within twenty miles !" exclaimed she, 
startîng up. ''How could you bring me to such a 
place ? Good God ! those dear créatures may die — ^I 
may die myself-before I can get any assistance l» 

*' Don't be alarmed, my dearest nièce," said the good 
Miss Grizzy ; " we are ail doctors hera I understand 
something of physic myself ; and our friend Lady 
Madaughlan, who, I daresay, will be hère presently, is 
perfect mistress of every disease of the human frame." 

"Clap a cauld potatae to the brute's tae," cried 
the old Laird gruffly. 

"IVe a box of her scald ointment that will cuie it 
in a minute." 

'*If it don't cure, it will kill,'' said Mr. DouglaSi 
wxthasmile. 



/ 



94 MARRIAGE. 

"Brother," said Miss Jacky, rismg wîth dignîty 
from her chair, and waving her hand as she spoke — 
" brother, I appeal tb you to protect the character of 
this most amiable, respectable matron from the insults 
and calumny your son thinks proper to load it with. 
Sir Sampson Maclaughlan is your friend, and it there- 
fore becomes your duty to défend his wife." 

" Troth, but TU hae aneugh to do if I am to stand 
up for a' my friends' wives," said the old gentleman. 
" But, however, Archie, you are to blâme : Leddy 
Maclaughlan is a very décent woman — at least, as far 
as I ken — though she is a little f ree in the gab ; and 
out of respect to my auld friend Sir Sampson, it is 
my désire that you should remain hère to receive him, 
and that you trait baith him and his Lady discreetly.** 

This was said in too serions a tone to be disputed, 
and his son was obliged to submii 

The ointment meanwhile having been applied ta 
Psyche's paw, peace was restored, and breakfast 
recommenced. 

'^ I déclare our dear nièce has not tasted a morsel,'' 
observed Miss Nicky. 

^'Bless me, here's charming barley meal scones/* 
cried one, thrusting a plateful of them before her. 
"Here's tempting pease bannocks,'' interposed another, 
" and oat cakes. l'm sure your Lad3nship never saw 
8uch cakes." 

" I can't eat any of those things," said their délicate 
nièce, with an air of disgust ^'I should like some 
muffin and chocolaté." 



HABRIAGE. 95 

"You forget you are not in London, my love," 
Raid her husband reproachfully. 

" No indeed, I do not forget it Well then, give 
me some toast," with an air of languid condescension. 

" Unf ortunately, we happen be quite out of loaf 
bread at présent," said Miss Nicky ; " but weVe sent 
to Drymsine for some. They bake excellent bread at 
Drymsine." 

«Is there nothing within the bounds of possibility 
you would fancy, Julia?" asked Douglas. "Do think, 
love." 

"I think I should like some grouse, or a beef- 
steak, if it was very nicely done," retumed her Lady- 
ship in a languishing tone. 

"Beef-steak !" repeated Miss Grizzy, . 

"Beef-steak 1" responded Miss Jacky. 

"Beef-steak !" reverberated Miss Nicky. 

After much délibération and consultation amonggt 
the three spinsters, it was at length unanimously 
carried that the Lady's whim should be indulged. , 

" Only think, sisters," observed Miss Grizzy in an 
undertone, " what reflections we should hâve to make 
upon ourselves if the child was to resemble a moor- 
fowl!" 

" Or hâve a face like a raw beef-steak !" said Miss 
Nicky. 

Thèse arguments were unanswerable ; and a smok- 
ing steak and plump moor-f owl were quickly produced, 
of which Lady Juliana partook in company with her 
four-footed favouritea 



CHAPTEE VIL 

** When winter soaks the fields, and female feet— 
Too weak to struggle with tenacious clay, 
Or ford the rivulets — are best at home." 

The Tadt, 

The meal being at length concluded, Glenf em desîred 
Henry to attend him on a walk,,as he wished to hâve 
a Uttle more private conversation with him. Lady 
Juliana was* beginning a remonstrance against the 
cruelty of taking Harry away from her, when her 
husband whispering her that he hoped to make some- 
thing of the old gentleman, and that he should Boon 
be back, she suffered him to départ in silence. 

Old Donald having at length succeeded in clearing 
the table of its heterogeneous banquet, it was quickly 
covered with the young ladies' work. 

Miss Nicky withdrew to her household affairs. 
Miss Jacky sat with one eye upon Lady Juliana, the 
other upon her five nièces. Miss Grizzy seated her- 
self by her Ladyship, holding a spread letter of Lady 
Maclaughlan's before her as a screea 

While the young ladies busily plied their needles, 
the elder ones left no means untried to entertain their 
listless niecoy whose only replies were exclamations of 



liABBIAOlL 97 

wearinesB, or expressions of affection bestowed apon 
her f ayourites. 

At length even Miss Jacky's sensé and Miss Grizzy's 
good nature were aê fwult; when a ray of sonshine 
dariing into the room suggested ihe idea of a walk. 
The proposai was made, and assented to by her 
Ladyship, in the twof old hope of meeting her husband 
and pleaâing her dogs, whose whining and scratching 
had for some time testîfied their désire of a chang& 
The ladies theref ore separated to prépare for their sortie^ 
after many recommendations from the aunts to be 
sure to ha/p ^ well ; but, as if distrusting her powers 
in that way, they speedily equipped themselyes, and 
repaired to her chamber, arrayed cap-à^ in the 
walking costume of Glenfem Gastle. And, indeed, it 
must be owned their style of dress was infinitely more 
judiciolis than that of their f ashionable nieoe ; and it 
was not suiprismg that they, in their shrunk duffle 
greatcoats, vast poke-bonnets, red worsted neck- 
cloths, and pattens, should gaze with horror at her 
lace cap, lilac satin pelisse, and silk shoes. Ruin to 
the whole race of Glenfem, présent and future, seemed 
inévitable from such a display of extravagance and 
imprudenca Having surmo^ted the St shock, 
Miss Jacky made a violent effort to subdue her rising 
wrath ; and, with a sort of convulsive smile, addressed 
Lady Juliana : " Your Ladyship, I perceive, is not of 
the opinion of our inimitable bard, who, in his charm- 
ing poem, ' The Seasons,' says * Beauty needs not the 

» Wiap. 
VOL. I. H 



98 MABRIAGE. 

foreîgn aid of ornament; but îs, when unadorned, 
adorned the most' That îs a tnith that ought to be 
impressed on every young woman's mind." 

Lady Juliana only stared. She was as llttle 
accustomed to be advised as she was to hear Thomson's 
" Seasons " quoted. 

"I déclare that's ail quite true," said the more 
temporising Grîzzy ; " and certaînly our gîrls are not 
in the least taken up about their dress, poor thîngs ! 
which is a great comf ort At the same time, Fm sure 
it's no wonder your Ladyship should be taken up 
about yours, for certainly that pelisse is most beautifuL 
Nobody can deny that ; and I daresay it is the very 
newest fashion. At the same time, l'm just afraid 
that it's rather too délicate, and that it might perhaps 
get a little dirty on our roads; for although, in 
gênerai, our roads are quite remarkable for being 
always dry, which is a great comfort in the country, 
yet you know the very best roads of course must be 
wet sometimes. And there's a very bad step just at 
the door ahnost, which Glenfem bas been always 
speaking about getting mended. But^ to be sure, he 
has so many things to think about that it's no wonder 
he forgets sometimes; but I daresay he will get it 
done very soon now." 

The prospect of the road being mended produced 
no better effect than the quotation from Thomson's 
"Seasons." It was now Miss Nicky's tum. 

" l'm afraid your Ladyship wiU frighten our stirks 
and stots with your finery. I assure you they are 



• 



liABRUGE. 99 

not accustomed to see such fine figures; and" — ^puUing 
her hand out at the window — "I think it's spiUiug 
already."^ 

Ail three now joined in the chorus, beseeching Lady 
Juliana to put on something warmer and more wise- 
like. 

"I positîvely hâve nothing," cried she, wearied 
with their importunities, "and I shan^t get any winter 
things now till I retum to town. My roquetaire does 
very well for the carnage." 

The acknowledgment at the beginnîng of thîs 
speech was enougk AU three instantly disappeared 
like the genii of Aladin's lamp, and, like that same 
person, presently retumed, loaded with what^ in their 
eyes, were predous as the gold of Arabia. One dis- 
played a hard worsted shawl, with a flower-pot at each 
corner ; another held up a tartan cloak, with a hood ; 
and a third thrust forward a dark cloth Joseph, lined 
with flannel; while one and ail showered down a 
variety of old bonnets, fur tippets, hair soles, clogs, 
pattens, and endless et cderas, Lady Juliana shrank 
with disgust from thèse "delightful haps," and r&- 
sisted ail attempts to hâve them forced upon her, 
declaring, in a manner which showed her determined 
to hâve her own way, that she would either go out 
as she was or not go out at alL The aunts were 
therefore obliged to submit, and the party proceeded 
to what was termed the high road, though a stranger 
would hâve sought in vain for its pretensions to that 

^ A common expression in Scotland to siguify slight rain. 






100 MAKRIAGE 

title. Far as tlie eye could rcach — and that was far 
euougli — ^not a single vehiclc could be descried on it, 
though its deep ruts showed that it was well frequented 
by carts. The scenery might hâve had charma for 
Ossian, but it had none for Lady Juliana, who would 
rather hâve been entangled in a string of Bond Street 
équipages than traversing "the lonely heath, witl^ 
the stream murmuring hoarsely, the old trees groan- 
ing in the wind, the troubled lake/' and the still more 
troubled sisters. As may be supposed, she very soon 
grew weary of the walk The bleak wind pierced 
her to the soûl; her silk slippers and lace flounces 
became undistinguishable masses of mud; her dogs 
chased the sheep, and were, in their tum, pursued by 
the "nowts," as the ladies termed the steers. One 
sister expatiated on the great blessing of having a 
peat moss at their door; another was at pains to 
point out the purposed site of a set of new offices ; 
and the third lamented that her Ladyship had not on 
thicker shces, that she might hâve gone and seen the 
garden. More than ever disgusted and wretched, the 
hapless Lady Juliana retumed to the house to fret 
away the time till her husband's retura 



OHÀPTER Vm. 

''On 80 rend insupportable dans la société par des déiants 
légers, mais qui se font sentir à tout moment." — ^Yoltaibb. 

Thb familj of Glenfem hâve already said so much 
for themâelves that it seems as if little remamed to 
be told by their biographer. Mrs. Douglas was the 
only member of the community wbo was at ail con- 
scious of tho unfortunate association of cbaracters and 
habits that had just taken place. She was a stranger 
to Lady JuUana ; but she was interested by her youth, 
beauty, and élégance, and f elt for the sacrifice she had 
made — a sacrifice so much greater than it was possible 
she ever could hâve conceived or anticipated. She 
could in some degree enter into the nature of her 
feelings towards the old ladies ; for she too had f elt 
how disagreeable people might contrive to render 
themselves without being guilty of any particular 
fault, and how much more diffîcult it is to bear with 
the weaknesses than the vices of our neighbourb. 
Had thèse ladies' failings been greater in a moral 
point of view, it might not hâve been so arduous a 
task to put up with them. But to love such a set 
of little, trifling, tormenting f oibles, ail dignified with 



1 



102 MABBIÂGE. 

tibie name of virtues, requîred, from her élégant mind, 
an exertion of its highest prînciples — a continuai 
remembrance of that diffîcult Christian précepte " to 
bear with one another.'' A person of less sensé than 
Mrs. Douglas would hâve endeavoured to open the 
eyes of their imderstandings on what appeared to be 
the f olly and narrowmindedness of their ways ;^ but 
she refrained from the attempt, not from want of 
benevolent exertion, but from an innate conviction 
that their foibles ail originated in what was now 
incurable, viz. the natural weakness of their minds, 
together with their ignorance of the world and the 
illiberality and préjudices of a vulgar éducation. 
<< Thèse poor women," reasoned the charitable Mrs. 
Douglas, "are perhaps, after ail, better characters 
in the sight of God than I am. He who has endowed 
us ail as His wisdom has seen fit, and has placed me 
amongst them, oh, may He teach me to remember 
that we are ail His children, and enable me to bear 
with their faults, while I study to correct my own." 

Thus did this amiable woman contrive not only 
to lîve in peace, but, without sacrificing her own 
hberal ideas, to be actually beloved by those. amongst 
whom her lot had been cast^ however dissimilar to 
herself. But for that Christian spirit (in which must 
ever be included a libéral mind and gentle temper), 
she must hâve f elt towards- her connexions a still 
stronger répugnance than was even manifested by 
Lady Juliana; for Lady Juliana's superiority over 
them was merely that of refined habits and élégant 



> • 
. » 

> b 



MABKIAGE. , 103 

manners ; whereas Mrs. Douglas's was the euperiority 
of a noble and highly-gif ted mind, which could hold 
no intercourse with theirs except by stooping to the 
level of their low capacîtîes. But, that the merit of 
her conduct may be duly appreciated, I shall en- 
deayonr to gîve a slight sketch of the female dramaiis 
personœ of Glenf em Castle. 

Miss Jacky, the senior of the trio, was what is 
reckoned a very sensible woman — which generally 
means, a very disagreeable, obstinate, illiberal director 
of ail men, women, and children — ^a sort of superin- 
tendent of ail actions, time, and place — ^with unques- 
tioned authority to arraign, judge, and condenm upon 
the statutes of her own supposed sensé. Most coontry 
parîshes hâve their sensible woman, who lays down 
the law on ail affairs, spiritual and temporal Miss 
Jacky stood unrivalled as the sensible woman of 
Glenfem. She had attained this eminence partly 
from having a little more understanding than her 
sisters, but prîncipally from her dictatorial manner, 
and the pompons décisive tone in which she delivered 
the most commonplace trutha At home her supremacy 
in ail matters of sensé was perf ectly established ; and 
thence the infection, like other superstitions, had 
spread over the whole neighbourhood. As sensible 
woman she regulated the family, which she took care 
to let everybody see ; she was conductor of her nièces' 
éducation, which she took care to let everybody hear ; 
she was a sort of postmistress gênerai — a détecter of 
aU abuses and impositions; and deemed it her pre- 



i 



104 KAKBIAGB. 

rogative to be consulted about ail the usef ul and ase- 
less things which everybody else could hâve done as 
welL She was libéral of her advice to the poor, 
'always enforcing upon them'the iniquity of îdleness, 
but doing nothing for them in the way of employment 
— strict economy beiDg one of the many points in which 
she was particularly sensible. The conséquence was, 
while she was lecturing half the poor women in the 
parish for their idleness, the bread was kept out of 
their mouths by the incessant carding of wool and 
knitting of stockings, and spinning, and reeling, and 
winding, and piming, that went on amongst the 
ladies themselves. And, by-the-bye, Miss Jacky is 
not the only sensible woman who thinks she is acting 
a meritorious part when she couverts what ought to 
be the portion of the poor into the emplojrment of 
the affluent 

In short, Miss Jacky was ail over sensé. A skilf ul 
physiognomist would, at a single glance, hâve detected 
the sensible woman, in the erect head, the compressed 
lips, square elbows, and firm judicious step. Even 
her very garments seemed to partake of the prevailing 
character of their mistress : her ruff always looked 
more sensible than any other body^s ; her shawl sat 
most sensibly on her shoulders; her walking shoes 
were acknowledged to be very sensible ; and she 
drew on her gloves with an air of sensé, as if the one 
arm had been Seneca, the other SocrateSw From 
what bas been said it may easily be inferred that 
Miss Jacky was in fact anything but a sensible woman; 



MASBUGE. 105 

as indeed no woman can be who bears such visible 
ontward marks of what is in reality the most quiet 
and unostentatious of ail good qualities. But there 
is a spurious sensé, which passes eqoally well with 
the multitude; it is easily assumed, and stîll more 
easily maîntaîned ; common truths and a grave dicta- 
torial air being ail that is necessary for its support 

Miss Grizzy's character will not admît of so long 
a conmientary as that of her sister. She was merely 
distinguishable from nothing hj her simple good 
nature, the inextricable entanglement of her thoughts, 
her love of letter-writing, and her friendship with 
Lady Maclaughlan. Miss Nicky had about as much 
sensé as Miss Jacky ; but^ as no Idngdom can main- 
tain two kings, so no f amily can admit of two sensible 
women ; and Nicky was theref ore obliged to confine 
hers to the narrowest possible channels of housekeep- 
ing, mantua-making, etc., and to sit down for life (or 
at least till Miss Jacky should be married) with the 
dubious character of "not wanting for sensé either." 
With ail thèse Uttle peccadilloes the sisters possessed 
some good properties. They were well-meaning, 
kind-hearted, and, upon the whole, good-tempered ; 
they loved one another, revered their brother, doated 
upon their nephews and nièces, took a lively interest 
in the poorest of their poor cousins, a hundred degrees 
removed, and had a firm conviction of the perfecti- 
bility of human nature, as exemplified in the persons 
of ail their own friends. " Even their f ailings leaned 
to virtue's side ;" for whatever they did was with the 



106 MABBIAGE. 

intention of doing good, though the means they madc 
use of generally produced an opposite eflfect. But 
tjiere are so many Miss Douglases in the world, that 
doubtless every one of my readers is as well acquainted 
with them as I am myself. I shall therefore leave 
them to finish the picture according to their own 
ideas, while I return to the parlour, whcre the worthy 
spinsters are seated in expectation of the arrivai of 
their f riend. 



CHAPTER IX. 

^ "Thoughboth 

Kot equal, as their sex not equal seemed— 
For contemplation he, and valour formed ; 
For softness she, and sweet attractive grâce." 

MiLTON. 

" What can hâve corne over Lady Maclaughlan ?" said 
Miss Grîzzy, as she sat at the wîndow in a dejected 
attituda 

"I think I hear a carriage at last," cried Miss 
Jacky, tuming up her ears. " Wisht ! let us listea" 

" It's only the wind," sighed Miss Grizzy. 

"It's the cart with the bread," said Miss Nicky. 

" It's Lady Maclaughlan, I assure you," pronounced 
Miss Jacky. 

The heavy rumble of a pondérons vehicle now 
proclaimed the approach of the expected visitor; 
which pleasing anticipation was soon changed into 
blissful certainty by the approach of a high-roofed, 
square -bottomed, pea-green chariot, drawn by two 
long-tailed white horses, and followed by a lackey in 
the Highland garb. Out of this équipage issued a 
figure, clothed in a light-coloured, large-flowered chintz 
raiment^ carefully drawn through the pocket-holes. 



108 MAHRIAGE. 

either for its own préservation, or the more disinter- 
ested purpose of displaying a dark short stuff petticoat, 
which, with the same liberalitj, afforded ample scope 
for the survey of a pair of worsted stockings and black 
leather shoes, something resembling buckets. A 
faded red cloth jacket^ which bore évident marks of 
having been severed from its native skirts, now acted 
in the capacity of a spencer. On the head rose a 
stupendous f abric, in the f orm of a cap, on the summit 
of which was placed a black beaver hat, tied à la pois- 
sarde. Â small black satin muff in one hand, and a 
gold-headed walking-stick in the other, completed the 
dress and décoration of this personage. 

The lackey, meanwhile, advanced to the carriage ; 
and, puttîng in both his hands, as if to catch some- 
thing, he pulled forth a small bundle, enveloped in a 
military cloak, the contents of which would hâve baffled 
conjecture, but for the large cocked hat and little 
booted leg which protruded at opposite extremitie& 

A loud but slow and well-modulated voice now 
resounded through the narrow stone passage that con- 
ducted to the drawing-room. 

"Bring him in — biing him in, Philistinel I 
always call my man Philistine, because he has Samp- 
son in his hands. Set hîm down there," pointîng to 
an easy chair, as the group now entered, headed by 
Lady Maclaughlan. 

" WeU, girlsl" addressing the vénérable spinsters, 
as they severally exchanged a tender salute; "so 
you're ail alive, I see ; — ^humph 1" 



liABBIAGBL 109 

''Dear Ladj Maclaughlan, allow me to i&troduce 
our beloved nièce, Ladj Juliana Douglas," said Miss 
Grizzy, leading her up, and bridling as she spoke 
with ill-suppressed exultation. 

"So — you're very pretty — yes, you are very 
prettyl" kissing the forehead, cheeks, and chin of 
the youthful beauty between every pause. Then, 
holding her at arm's length, she surveyed her from 
head to f oot^ with elevated brows, and a broad fixed 
stara 

"Pray sit down, Lady Maclaughlan/' cried her 
three friends ail at once, each tendering a chair. 

"Sit down!" repeated she; "why, what should I 
dt down forî I choose to stand — ^I don't like to sit 
— ^I never sit at home — do I, Sir Sampson?" tuming 
to the little warrior, who, having been seized with a 
violent fit of coughing on his entrance, had now sunk 
back, seemingly quite exhausted, while the FhUisHne 
was endeayouring to disencumber him of his military 
accoutrements. 

"How very distressing Sir Sampson's cough is!" 
said the sympathising Miss Grizzy. 

"Distressing, child! No — it's not the least dis- 
tressing. How can a thing be distressing that does 
no harm ? He's much the better of it — it's the only 
exercise he gets.'' 

" Oh 1 well, indeed, if that's the case, it would be a 
thousand pitiés to stop it^'' replied the accommodating 
spinster. 

"No, it wouldn't be the least pity to stop itl" 



110 MARRIAGE. 

returned Lady Maclaughlan, in her loud authorîtatîve 
tone; "because, though it's not distressing, it's very 
disagreeable. But it cannot be stopped — ^you might 
as well talk of stopping the wind — it is a cradle 
cough." 

" My dear Lady Maclaughlan ! " screamed Sir 
Sampson in a shrill pipe, as he made ati effort to 
raise himself, and rescue his cough from this asper- 
sion ; " how can you persist in saying so, when I hâve 
told you so often it proceeds entirely from a cold 
caught a few years ago, when I attended his Majesty 

at " Hère a violent relapse carried the conclusion 

of the sentence along with it. 

"Let him alone — don't meddle with him," called 
his lady to the assiduous nymphs who were bustling 
around him ; " leave him to l'hilistine ; he*s in very 
good hands when he is in Philistine's." Then rqsting 
her chin upon the head of her stick, she resumed her 
scrutiny of Lady Juliana. 

" You really are a pretty créature ! YouVe got a 
very handsome nose, and your mouth's very well, but 
I don't like your eyes ; theyVe too large and too light ; 
they're saucer eyes, and I don't like saucer eyea Why 
ha'nt you black eyes 1 You're not a bit like youVe 
father — I knew him very welL Your mother was an 
heiress ; your father married her for her money, and 
she married him to be a Countess ; and so that's the 
history of their marriage— humph. " 

This well-bred harangue was delivered in an unvary- 
ing tone, and with unmoved muscles ; for Uiough the 



MARRIAGK 111 

lady seldom failed of calling forth some conspîcuous 
émotion, either of shame, mirth, or anger, on the 
countenances of her hearers, she had never been 
known to betray any correspondent feelings on her 
own ; yet her features were finely formed, marked, and 
expressive ; and, in spite of her ridiculous dress and 
eccentric manners, an air of dignity was diffused over 
her whole person, that screened her from the ridicule 
to which she must otherwise hâve been exposed. 
Amazement at the uncouth garb and singular address 
of Lady Maclaughlan was seldom unmixed with terror 
at the stem imperious manner that accompanied ail 
her actions. Such were the feelings of Lady Juliana 
as she remained subjected to her rude gaze and imper- 
tinent remarks. 

"My Lady !" squeaked Sir Sampson from forth his 
easy chair. 

" My love V* interrogated his lady as she leant upon 
her stick. 

"I want to be introduced to my Lady Juliana 
Douglas ; so give me your hand," attempting, at the 
same time, to émerge from the huge leathem récep- 
tacle into which he had been plunged by the care of 
the kind sisters. 

" Oh, pray sit still, dear Sir Sampson," cried they 
as usual ail at once ; " our sweet nièce will come to 
you, don't take the trouble to rise ; pray don't," each 
putting a hand on this man of might, as he was half 
risen, and pushing him dowa 

" Ay, come hère, my dear," said Lady Maclaughlan; 



112 MARRIAGE. 

"you're abler to walk to Sir Sampson than he to you," 
pulling Lady Juliana in front of the easy chair; 
" tihere — that*s her ; you see she is very pretty." 

"Zounds, what is the meaning of ail this?" screamed 
the enraged baronet " My Lady Juliana Douglas, I 
am shocked beyond expression at this freedom of my 
lady'& I beg your ladyship ten thousand pardons; 
pray be seated. l'm shocked ; I am ready to f aint at 
the împropriety of this introduction, so contrary to 
ail rules of étiquette. How coidd you behave in such 
a manner, my Lady Maclaughlan V 

" Why, you know, my dear, your legs may be very 
good legs, but they can't walk," replied she, with her 
usual sang froid. 

"My Lady Maclaughlan, you perfectly confound 
me," stuttering with rage. " My Lady Juliana 
Douglas, see hère," stretching out a meagre shank, to 
which not even the military boot and large spur could 
give a respectable appearance: "You see that leg 
strong and straight," stroking it down; "now, be- 
hold the fate of warl" dragging forward the other, 
which was shrunk and shrivelled to almost one half 
its original dimensions. " Thèse legs were once the 
same; but I repine not — I sacrificed it in a noble 
cause : to that leg my Sovereign owes his life !" 

" Well, I déclare, I had no idea ; I thought alwaya 
it had been rheumatism," burst from the lips of Uie 
astonished spinsters, as they crowded round the illus- 
trions limb, and regarded it with looks of vénération. 

"Humph 1" emphatically uttered his lady. 



MARRIAGE. 113 

**The story's a simple one, ladies, and soon told : I 
happened to be attending hîs Majesty at a reriew ; I 

was then aid-de-camp to Lord . His horse took 

fright, I — I — ^I," — ^here, in spite of ail the efforts that 
could be made to suppress it, the royal cough burst 
forth with a violence that threatened to silence its 
brave owner for ever. 

"It's very strange you will talk, my love," said hîs 
sympathising lady, as she supported him; ''taiking 
never did, nor never "will agrée with you; it's very 
strange what pleasure people take in talking — 
humphl" 

'* Is there anything dear Sir Sampson cotQd take t'' 
asked Miss Grizzy. 

^^Chuld takel I don't know vrhat you mean by 
eould take. He couldn't take the moon, if you mean 
that; but he must take what I give him; so call 
Fhilistine ; he knows where my cough tindmre ia" 

^' Ohy we hâve plenty of it in tfais press/' said Miss 
Orizzy, flying to a cupboard, and, drawing forth a 
bottle, she poured out a bumper, and presented it 
to Sir Sampson. 

'^Fm poisoned!" gasped he feebly; '^that's not 
my lad/s cough-tincture." 

''Not cough-tincture T' repeated the horror-stmck 
doctress, as for the first time she examined the label ; 
"Oh ! I déclare, neither it is — it's my own stomach 
lotioa Bless me, what will be done V and she wrung 
her hands in despaîr. '* Oh, Murdoch," flying to the 
FhiUsêmef as he entered with the real cough-tincture^ 

VOIk L I M. 



114 MABRU6E. 

** I Ve giyen Sir Sampson a dose of my own stomach 
lotion by mistake, and I am terrified for the con- 
séquences !" 

" Oo, but hur need na be feared, hur will no be a 
haïr the war o't ; for burs wad na tak' the f eesick 
that the leddie ordered hur yestreen." 

"Well, I déclare things are wisely ordered," ob- 
served Miss Grizzy; "in that case it may do dear 
Sir Sampson a great deal of good." 

Just as this pleasing idea was suggested, Douglas 
and bis father entered, and the ceremony of present- 
ing her nephew to her friend was perf ormed by Miss 
Grinzy in her most conciliating manner. 

"Dear Lady Maclaughlan, this is our nephew 
Henry, who, I know, bas the highest vénération for 
Sir Sampson and you. Henry, I assure you, Lady 
Maclaughlan takes the greatest interest in everything 
that concems Lady Juliana and you." 

"Humph 1" rejoined her ladyship, as she surveyed 
him from head to foot " So your wife f ell in love 
with you, it seems ; well, the more f ool she ; I never 
knew any good come of love marriagea" 
^ Douglas coloured, while he affected to laugh at this 
extraordinary address, and withdrawing himself from 
her scrutiny, resumed bis station by the side of bis 
Juliana» 

" Now, girls, I must go to my toilet ; which of you 
am I to bave for my handmaîd ?" 

"Oh, well ail go," eagerly exclaimed the three 
nymphfl ; " our dear nièce will ezcuse us for a little ; 



MAERIAGE. 115 

yonng people are never at a loss to amuse one an- 
other." 

"Venus and the Grâces, by Jove !" exclaîmed Sîr 
Sarai«on.l>owingwi1àan^rIf gallantry; «andnow 
I must go and adonîse a little myself." 

The Company then scparated to perform the im- 
portant offices of the toilet 



J 



CHAPTEE X. 

** Nature hère 
Wanton'd as in her prime, and played at will 
Her virgin fancies." 

^ MiLTOK. 

Thb gentlemen were alreadv assembled round the 
drawifg-room fire, impatient waiting the hour of 
dinner^ when Lady Maclaughlan and her three friends 
entered. The masculine habiliments of the moming 
had been exchanged for a more féminine costume. 
She was now arrayed in a pompadour satin négligée, 
and petticoat trimmed with Brussels lace. A higli 
starched handkerchief formed a complète breastwork, 
on which, amid a large bouquet of truly artificial roses, 
reposed a miniature of Sir Sampson, à la mUifaire. 
A small fly cap of antique lace was scarcely percep- 
tible on the summit of a stupendous frizzled toupee, 
hemmed in on each sîde by large curla The muff 
and stick had been relînquished for a large fan, some- 
thing resembling an Indian screen, which she waved 
to and fro in one hand, while a vast brocaded work- 
bag was suspended from the other. 

"So, Major Douglas, your servant," said she, in 
answer to the constrained formai bow with which he 



MARRIAGE. 117 

saluted her on her entranca " Why, it's so long since 
IVe seen you that you may be a grandfather for 
ought I know." 

The poor awkward Misses at that moment came 
sneaking into the room: '^As for you, girls, youll 
never be grandmothers ; youll never be married, unless 
to wild men of the woods. I suppose you'd like that; 
it would saye you the trouble of combing your hair, 
and tying your shoes, for then you could go without 
clothes altogether — ^humph! You'd be much better 
without clothes than to put them on as you do/' 
seizing upon the luckless Miss Baby, as she endea- 
Youred to steal behind backs. 

Ând hère, in justice to the lady, it must be owned 
that, for once, she had some grounds for animadversion 
in the dress and appearance of the Misses Douglas. 

They had stayed out, running races and riding on 
a pony, until near the dinner hour; and, dreading 
their f ather's displeasure should they be too late, they 
had, with the utmost haste, exchanged their thick 
moming dresses for thin muslin gowns, made by a 
mantuamaker of the neighbourhood in the extrême of 
a two-year-old fashion, when waists were noL 

But as dame Nature had been particularly lavish 
in the length of theirs, and the staymaker had, 
according to their aunt's direction, given them fidl 
measure of their new dark stays, there existed a visible 
breach between the waists of their gowns and the 
bands of their petticoats, which they had vainly sought 
to adjust by a meeting. Their hair had been curled, 



118 MARRI AGE. 

but not combed, and dark gloves had been hastily 
drawn on to bide red anns. 

"I suppose," continued the stem Lady Maclaugb- 
lan, as sbe twirled ber victim round and round ; " I 
suppose you tbink yourself vastly smart and well 
dressed. Yes, you are very neat, very neat indeed ; 
one would suppose Ben Jonson bad you in bis eye 
wben be composed tbat song." Tben in a voice like 
thunder, sbe cbanted f ortb — 

** Give me a look, gîye me a face 

X That makes simplicîty a grâce ; 
Robes loosely flowing, hair as free, 
Sucli sweet neglect more taketh me.** 

Miss Grizzy was in the utmost perplezîty between 
her inclination to urge sometbing in exténuation for 
tbe poor gîrls, and ber fear of dissenting from Lady 
Maclaugblan, or ratber of not immediately agreeing 
witb ber ; sbe tberef ore steered, as usual, tbe middle 
course, and kept saying, " Well, cbildren, really wbat 
Lady Maclaugblan says is aU very true ; at tbe same 
time" — tuming to ber friend — " I déclare it's not mucb 
to be wondered at ; young people are so tbougbtless, 
poor lambs!" 

" Wbat*s aw tbîs wark aboot?" said tbe old gentle- 
man angrily; "tbe gîrlies are weel eneugb; I see 
naetbing tbe matter wi' tbem ; tbey*re no dressed like 
auld queens or stage -actresses;" and be glanced bis 
eye from Lady Maclaugblan to bis élégant daugbter- 
in-law, wbo just tben entered, banging, according to 
custom, on her husband, and preceded by Cupid 



MABBIAGE. 119 

Mrs. Douglas followed, and the sound of the dinner 
bell put a stop to the dispute. 

"Corne, my leddie, well see how the dinner's 
dressed, said the Laird, as he seized Lady Maolaugh- 
lan by the tip of the finger, and holding it up aloft^ 
thej marched into the dining-room. 

"Permit me, my Lady Juliana Douglas," said the 
little Baronet, with much diffîculty hobbling towards 
her, and attemptîng to take her hand. " Corne, Harry, 
love ; hère, Cupid," cried she ; and without noticing 
the enraged Sir Sampson, she passed on, humming a 
tune, and leaning upon her husband. 

"Astonishingl perfectly astonishing!" exclaimed 
the Baronet; "how a young woman of Lady Juliana's 
rank and f ashion should be guilty of such a solecism 
in good breeding." 

"She is very young," said Mrs. Douglas, smiling, 
as he limped along with her, "and you must make 
allowances for her; but, indeed, I think her beauty 
must ever be a suffîcient excuse for any little errors 
she may commit with a person of such taste and gal- 
lantry as Sir Sampson Maclaughlan." 

The little Baronet smiled, pressed the hand he 
held ; and, soothed by the well-timed compliment, he 
seated himself next to Lady Juliana with some com- 
placency. As she insisted on having her husband on 
the other side of her, Mr. Douglas was condemned to 
take his station by the hated Lady Maclaugblan, who, 
for the first time observing Mrs. Douglas, called to 
bsr — 



120 MABRIAGB. 

*^ Corne hère, my love; I haven't seen you thèse hnn- 
dred years;" then seizing her face between her hands, 
she saluted her in the usual styla " There," at length 
releasing Mt& Douglas from her gripe — "there's for 
you ! I love you very much ; you're neîther a fool 
nor a hoyden ; you're a. fine intelligent being." 

Having caref ully rolled up and deposited her gloves 
in her pocket^ she pulled out a pin-cushion, and calling 
Miss Bella, desired her to pin her napMn over her 
shoulders ; which done, she began to devour her soup 
msilenca 

Peace was, however, of short duration. Old 
Donald, in removing a dish of whipt cream, unf or- 
tonately overtumed one upon Lady Maclaughlan's 
pompadour satin petticoat — ^the only part of her dress 
that was unprotected. 

"Do you see what you hâve done, you old Donald, 
youf" cried she, seizing the culprit by the sleeve; 
"why, youVe got St Vitus's danca A fit hand to 
cany whipt cream, to be sure! Why, I could as 
well carry a custard on the point of a bayonet — 
humph !" 

" Dear me, Donald, how could you be so senseless 9" 
cried Miss Jacky. 

"Préserve me, Donald, I thought you had more 
sensé !" squeaked Miss Nicky. 

"I am sure, Donald, that was na like youl" said 
Miss Grizzy, as the friends ail flocked around the 
petticoat, each suggesting a différent remedy. 

"It's ail of you, girls, that this has happened 



MÀBRIAGE. 121 

Why can't jou hâve a larger tablecloth upon yonr 
table ! And tfiat old man bas tbe palsy. Wby don't 
you electrify himl" in a tone admirably calculated 
to baye tbat effect 

"I dedare, it's ail very true," observed Mîss 
Grizzy; ''tbe tableclotb is very small, and Donald 
certainly does sbake, tbat cannot be deniedj" but, 
loweiing ber roice, ''be is so obstinate, we really 
don't know wbat to do witb bim. My sisters and I 
attempted to nse tbe flesb-bnisb witb bim." 

** Ob, and an excellent tbing it is ; I make PbiliB- 
tine rab Sir Sampson eveiy moming and nigbt If 
it was not for tbat and bis cougb, nobody would know 
wbetber be were dead or alive; I don't believe he 
would know bimself — ^bumpb !" 

Sir Sampson's lemon face assumed an orange bue 
as be overbeard tbis domestic détail ; but not daring 
to contradict tbe facts, be prudently tumed a deaf 
ear to tbem, and attempted to carry on a flirtation 
witb Lady Juliana tbrougb tbe médium of Cupid, 
wbom be bad coaxed upon bis knee. 

Dinner being at lengtb ended, toasts succeeded: 
and eacb of tbe ladies baving giyen ber favourite 
laird, tbe signal of retreat was given, and a gênerai 
movement took place. 

Lady Juliana, throwing berself upon a sofa witb 
ber pugs, called Mrs. Douglas to ber, "Do sit down 
bere and talk witb me," yawned sbe. 

Her sister-in-law, witb great good-bumour, fetcbed 
her work, and seated berself by tbe spoilt cbild. 



122 MABBIAGE. 

"What strange thing îs that you are makingî" 
asked she, as Mr& Douglas pulled oui her knitting. 

*' It's a child's stocking," replîed her sister-in-law. 

"A child's stocking! Oh, by-the-bye, hâve you 
a great many chfldren V* 

"I hâve none/' apswered Mrs. Douglas, wîth a 
half-stîfled sigL 

*^ None at ail 1" repeated Lady Juliana, with sur- 
prise ; " then, why do you make children's stockings ?" 

"I make them for those whose parents cannot 
afford to purchase them." 

" La ! what poor wretches they must be, that can't 
afford to buy stockings," rejoined Lady Juliana, with 
a yawn. " It's monstrous good of you to make them, 
to be sure ; but it must be a shocking bore ! and such 
a trouble !" and another long yawn succeeded. 

"Not half such a bore to me as to sit idle," re- 
tumed Mr& Douglas, with a smile, "nor near so 
much trouble as you undergo wîth your favouritea" 

Lady Juliana made no reply, but tuming from her 
sister-in-law, soon was, or affected to be, sound asleep, 
from which she was only roused by the entrance of 
the gentlemen. '* A rubber or a réel, my Leddie t" 
asked the Laîrd, going up to his daughter-in-law. 

'' Julia^ love," said her husband, " my father asks 
you if you choose cards or dancing." 

" There's nobody to dance with," said she, casting 
a languid glance around ; '* 111 play at card&" 

" Not whist, surely ! " said Henry. 

<* Whist! Oh, heavens, na" 



MABBIAGE. 123 

"Weel, weel, you youngsters will get a round 
game; corne, my Leddy Maclaughlan, Grîzzy, Mrs. 
Douglas, hey for the odd trick and the honours ! " 

" Wbat would your Ladyship choose to play at V* 
asked Miss Jacky, advancing wîth a pack of cards in 
one hand, and a box of counters in the other. 

" Oh, anything ; I like loo very well, or quadrille, 
or — I really don't care what." 

The Misses, who had gathered round, and were 
standing gapîng in joyful expectation of Pope Joan, 
or a pool at commerce, hère exchanged sorrowfol 
glance& 

''I am afraîd the young people don't play thèse 
games," replied Miss Jacky; "but weVe counters 
enough," shaking her little box, " for Pope Joan, and 
we ail know that" 

"Pope Joan! I never heard of such a game," 
repUed Lady Juliana. 

"Oh, we can soon leam you," saîd Miss Nicky, 
who having spread the green cloth on the tea-table, 
now advanced to join the consultation. 

"I hâte to be taught^" saîd Lady Juliana, with a 
yawnj «besides, I am suro it must be something 
very stupid." 

"Âsk if she plays commerce," whispered Miss 
Bella to Miss Baby. 

The question was put, but with no better success, 
and the young ladies' faces again bespoke their dis- 
appointment, which their brother observing, he good- 
naturedly declared his perf ect knowledge of commerce ; 



124 MÂRBIAGE. 

^* and I must insîst upon teaching yoa, Juliana^*' gently 
dragging her to the tabla 

" What's the pool to be î " asked one of the young 
ladies. 

** rm sure I don't know/' said the aunts, looking 
to each other. 

'^ I suppose we must make ît sixpence," said Miss 
Jacky, after a whispeiing consultation with her 
sîster. 

"In that case we can afford nothing to the best 
hand," observed Miss Nicky. 

"And we ought to hâve five Uves and grâce," 
added one of the nièces. 

Thèse points having been conceded, the prelimin- 
aries were at length settleA The cards were slowly 
doled out by Miss Jacky ; and Lady Juliana was^ care- 
fully instructed in the rules of the game, and strongly 
recommended always to try for a séquence, or pairs, 
etc. " And if you win," rejoined Miss Nicky, shaking 
the snuffer-stand in which were deposited the sixpences, 
"you get ail this." 

As may be conjectured, Lady Juliana's patience 
could not survive more than one life; she had no 
notion of playing for sixpences, and could not be at 
the trouble to attend to any instructions; she there- 
fore quickly retired in disgust, leaving the aunts and 
nièces to struggle for the gloçous prize. " My dear 
child, you played that last stroke like a perfect 
natural," cried Lady Maclaughlan to Miss Grizzy, as, 
the rubber ended, they arose from the table. 



MABRIAGIS. 125 

" Indeed, I déclare, I daresay I did," replied her 
friand in a deprecatîng tone. 

" Daresay you did ! I know you did — ^humph ! I 
knew the ace lïy with you ; I knew that as well as if 
I had seen it I suppose you hâve eyes — ^but I don't 
know; ii you hâve, didn't you see Glenfem turn ,up 
the king, and yet you retumed his lead — ^retumed 
your adversary's lead in the face of his king. IVe 
been telling you thèse twenty years not to retum 
your adversary's lead ; nothing can be more despi- 
cable ; nothing can be a greater proof of imbecility 
of mind — ^humph !" Then, seating herself, she began 
to exercise her fan with considérable activity. " This 
has been the most disagreeable day I ever spent in 
this house, girls. I don't know what's corne over 
you, but you are ail wrong; my petticoat's ruined; 
my pockets picked at cards. It won't do, girls; it 
won't do — ^humph ! " 

" I am sure I can't understand it," said Miss Grizzy 
in a rueful accent ; '' there really appears to hâve been 
some fatality." 

" Fatality ! — ^humph I I wish you would give every- 
thing its right name. What do you mean by fatality V* 

" I déclare — ^I am sure — ^I — I really don't know," 
stammered the unfortunate Grizzy. 

"Do you mean that the spilling of the custard was 
the work of an angell^ demanded her unrelenting 
friend. 

" Oh, certainly not." 

" Or that it was the devil tempted you to throw 



f 



126 MABRIAGE. 

away your ace there % I suppose there's a f atalîty in 
our going to supper just now," contînued she, as her 
deep-toned voîce resounded through the passage thai 
conducted to the dining-room ; " and I suppose it will 
be called a fatality if that old Fate," pointîng to 
Donald, '^ scalds me to death with that mess of por- 
ridge he's going to put on the table — ^humph !" 

No such fatality, however, occurred*; and the rest 
of the evening passed off in as much harmony aâ could 
be ezpected from the very heterogeneous parts of which 
the Society was f ormed. 

The f amily group had already assembled round the 
breakfast-table, with the exception of Lady Juliana, 
who chose to take that meal in bed ; but, contrary to 
her usual custom, no Lady Maclaughlan had yet made 
her appearance. 

" The scones will be Uke leather," saîd Miss Grizzy, 
as she wrapped another napHn round them 

"The eggs will be like snowballs," cried Miss 
Jacky, popping them into the slop-basin. 

"The tea will be Uke brandy," observed Miss 
Nicky, as she poured more water to the three tea- 
spoonfuls she had infused. 

^ I wish we saw our breakfast," said the Laird, as 
he finished the newspapers, and deposited his spec- 
tacles in his pocket 

At that moment the door opened, and the person 
in question entered in her travelling dress, foUowed 
by Sir Sampson, Philistine bringing up the rear with 
a large green bag and a little band-boz. 



MJLBBIAGI. 127 

'*I hope jour bed was warm and comfortabla I 
hope you rested weE I hope Sir Sampson's quite 
well l** immediately buist as if from a thouaand voices, 
while the sisters officioiisly fluttered round their friend. 

" I rested very ill; my bed was yery uncomfortable; 
and Sir Sampson's as sick as a cat — ^hmnph 1" 

Three disconsolate "Bless me'fi !" hère bnrst forlih. 

^'Perhaps yonr bed was too hardf" saîd Miss 
OrtEzy. 

*' Or too soft t" snggested Miss Jacky. 

•• Or too hot î" added Miss Nicky. 

** It was neither too hard, nor too soft^ nor too hot^ 
nor too cold," thundered the Lady, as she seated her- 
self at the table ; "but it was ail of them." 

"I dedare, that's most distressing^" said Miss 
Orizzy, in a tone of sorrowful amazement ''Was 
your head hi^ enough, dear Lady Maclaughlant" 

*' Perhaps it was too high," said Miss Jacky. 

''I know nothing more disagreeable than a high 
head," remarked Miss Nicky. 

"Ezcept a fooFs head — ^humph !" 

The Sound of a carriage hère set ail ears on foll 
streitch, and presently the well-known pea-green drew 
up. 

'' Dear me ! Bless me ! Ooodness me !" shrieked 
the three ladies at once. '' Surely, Lady Madaugh- 
lan, you can't — ^you don't — ^you won't ; this must be 
a mistake." 

" There's no mistake in the matter, girls," replied 
their friend, with her accustomed sang froid, " Tm 



128 M^LEtRIAGS, 

goîng home ; so I ordered the caxrîage ; that's ail — 
humph !" 

*^ Going home !" faintlj muimured the disconsolate 
spinstera 

" What ! I suppose you think I ought to stay hère 
and hâve another petticoat spoiled; or lose another 
half-crown at cards ; or hâve the finishing stroke put 
to Sir Sampson — humph !" 

'* Oh ! Lady Maclaughlan !" was three times utteted 
in reproachful accents. 

" I don*t know what else I should stay for ; you 
are not yourselves, girls; youVe ail tumed topsy-turvy. 
IVe visited hère thèse twenty years, and I never saw 
things in the state they are now — humph!" 

"I déclare iVs very true," sighed Miss Grizzy; 
" we certainly are a little in confusion, that can't be 
denied." 

" Denied ! Why, can you deny that my petticoat's 
ruined ? Can you deny that my pocket was picked 
of half-a-crown for nothing 1 Can you deny that Sir 
Sampson has been half-poisoned î and " 

" My Lady Maclaughlan," interrupted the enraged 
husband, "I — I — I am surprised — I am shocked! 
Zounds, my Lady, I won't suffer this ! I cannot stand 
it;" and pushing his tea-cup away, he arose, and 
limped to the window. Philistine hère entered to 
inform his mistress that " awthing was ready." 
" Steady, boys, steady ! I always am ready," re- 
sponded the Lady in a tone adapted to the song. 
" Now I am ready ; say nothing, girls — ^you know my 



N 



ICABBIÂGS. 129 

rolea Hère, Philistine, wrap up Sir Sampson, and 
put him in. Get along, mj lova Grood-bye, girls ; 
and I hope you will ail be restored to your rigbt sensés 
soon." 

"Oh, Lady Maclanghlan !" whined the weeping 
Grizzy, as she embraced her friend, who, somewhat 
melted at the signs of her distress, bawled out from 
the carnage, as the door was shut, " Well, Grod bless 
yon, girls, and make you what you hâve been ; and 
corne to Lochmarhe Castle soon, and bring your wits 
along with you." 

The cairiage then drove of^ and the three discon- 
aolaté sisters retumed to the parleur to hold a cabinet 
eouncil as to the causes of the late disastersL 



TOU & 



CHAPTER XL 

" If there be cure or chann 

To respîte or relieve, or slack the pain 

Of this ill mansion.'* 

Hilton. 

Time, which generally allevîates ordinary distresses, 
served only to augment the severîty of Lady Juliana's, 
as day after day rolled heavily on, and found her still 
an înmate of Glenfem Castle. Destitute of every re- 
source in herself , she yet tumed with contempt f rom the 
scanty sources of occupation or amusement that were 
suggested by others ; and Mrs. Douglas's attempts to 
teach her to play at chess and read Shakespeare were 
as unsuccessful as the endeavours of the good aunts to 
persuade her to study Fordyce's Sermons and make 

L languid déjection or fretful repinings did tiie 
unhappy beauty therefore consume the tedious hours, 
whîle her husband sought altemately to soothe with 
f ondness he no longer f elt^ or flatter with hopes which 
he knew to be groundless. To his father alone could 
he now look for any assistance, and from him he was 
not likely to obtain it in the f orm he desired ; as the 
old gentleman repeatedly declared his utter inability 



HAUBIAGE. 131 

to advance him any ready money, or to aUow him 
more than a hundred a year — moreover, to be paid 
quarterly — a sum which could not defray their ex- 
penses to London. 

Such was the state of affaîrs when the Laîrd one 
moming entered the dining-room with a face of much 
importance, and addressed his son with, "Weel, 
Harry, you're a lucky man ; and it's an ill wind that 
blaws naebody gude : here's puir Macglashan gane like 
snaw aff a dyka" 

'' Macglashan gone ! " exclaimed Miss Grizzy. 
'^Impossible, brother; it was only yesterday I sent 
him a blister for his back !" 

'^And I," said Miss Jacky, "talked to him for 
upwards of two hours last night on the impropriety 
of his allowing his daughter to wear white gowns on 
Sraiday." 

"By my troth, an* that was eneugh to kill ony 
man,'' muttered the Laird. 

" How I am to dérive any benefit f rom this import- 
ant démise is more than I can perçoive," said Henry 
in a somewhat contemptuons tone. 

" You see," replied his father, " that by our agree- 
ment his farm falls vacant in conséquence." 

"And I hope I am to succeed to itf replied the 
son, with a snûle of dérision. 

"Exactly! By my faith, but you hâve a bein 
downset There's three thousand and seventy-five 
acres of as good sheepwalk as any in the whole 
country-side ; and I shall advance you stocking and 



132 MABRIAGE. 

stedding, and everythîng complète, to your very peat- 
stacks. What think ye of that?" slapping bis son's 
shoulder, and rubbing his own hands with delight as 
he spoka 

Horrorstruck at a scheme which appeared to him 
a thousand times worse than anything his imagination 
had ever painted, poor Heniy stood in speechless 
consternation; while "Oharming! Excellent! De- 
lightful !" was echoed by the aunts, as they crowded 
round, wishing him joy, and applauding their brother's 
generosity. 

"What will our sweet nièce say to this, I wonder?" 
said the innocent Grizzy, who in truth wondered none. 
"I wonld like to see her face when she hears it ;" and 
her own was puckered into varions shapes of delight 

"I haye no doubt but her good sensé will teach 
her to appreciate properly the blessings of her lot»" 
observed the more reflecting Jacky. 

"She bas had her own good luck," qnoth the 
sententious Nicky, "to find such a downset ail eut 
and dry," 

At that instant the door opened, and the f avoured 
individus! in question entered. In vain Douglas 
strove to impose silence on his f ather and aunts. The 
latter sat, bursting with impatience to break out into 
exclamation, while the former, advancing to his fair 
daughter^in-law, saluted her as "Lady Clackandowt" 
Then the torrent burst f orth, and, stupefied with sur- 
prise, Lady Juliana suffered herself to be kissed and 
hugged by the whole host of aunts and nièces, while 



MABBIA6E. 138 

the veiy walls seemed to reverberate the shouts, and 
the pugs and mackaw, who never failed to take part 
in every commotion, began to bark and scream in 
chôma. 

The old gentleman, clappîng his hands to his ean, 
nuâied ont of the room. His son, cursing his aonts, 
and everything around him, kicked Cupid, and gaye 
the mackaw a box on the ear, as he also qoitted the 
apartment, with more appearance of anger than he 
had ever yet betrayed. 

The tumult at length began to subsid& The 
mackaw's screams gave place to a low quivering croak; 
and the insulted png's yells yielded to a gentle whina 
The aunts' obstreperous joy began to be chastened 
with fear for the conséquences that might f oUow an 
abrupt disclosure ; and, while Lady Juliana condoled 
with her favourites, it was concerted between the 
prudent aunts that the joyful news should be broke 
to their nièce in the most cautious manner possible^ 
For that purpose Misses Grizzy and Jacky seated 
thernselves on each side of her ; and, after duly pro- 
paring their voices by sundry small hems. Miss 
Grizzy thus began : 

<< l'm sure — I déclare — ^I dare say, my dear Lady 
Juliana, you must think we are ail distracted." 

Her auditor made no attempt to contradict the 
supposition. 

"We certainly ought, to be sure, to hâve been 
more cautions, considering your délicate situation; 
but the joy — ^though, indeed, it seems cruel to say sa 



134 MAJOIIAOE. 

And I am sure you will sympathise, my dear nièce, 
in the cause, when you hear that it is occasioned by 
our poor neighbour Macglashan's death, which, l'm 
sure, was quite unexpected. Indeed, I déclare I can't 
conceive how it came about ; for Lady Maclaughlan, 
who is an excellent judge of thèse things, thought he 
was really a remarkably stout-looking man for his 
time of life; and indeed, except occasional colds, 
which you know we are ail subject to, I really never 
knew him complain. At the same time " 

"I don't think, sister, you are taking the right 
method of communicatmg the intelligence to our 
nièce,'' said Miss Jacky. 

"You cannot communicate anything that would 
give me the least pleasure, unless you could tell me 
that I was going to leave this place," cried Lady 
Juliana in a voice of deep despondency. 

" Indeed ! if it can afford your Ladyship so much 
pleasure to be at liberty to quit the hospitable mansion 
of your amiable husband's respectable father," said 
mL Jacky, with an inflamed visage and ou^pr^ui 
hands, " you are at perfect liberty to départ when you 
think proper. The generosity, I may say ihe munifi- 
cence, of my excellent brother, has now put it in 
your power to do as you please, and to form your 
own plans." 

" Oh, delightful 1" exclaimed Lady Juliana, starting 
up ; " now I shall be quite happy. Where's Harry 1 
Does he know? Is he gone to order the carriagel 
Can we get away to-dayî" And she was flying out 



MÀBBIAGE. 135 

of the room when Miss Jacky caught her by one 
hand, while Miss Grizzy secured the other. 

" Oh, pray don't detain me ! I must find Hany ; 
and I hâve ail my things to put up," struggling to 
release herself from the gripe of the sisters ; when the 
door opened, and Harry entered, eager, yet dreading 
to know the effects of the éclaircissement, His surprise 
extrême at beholding his wife, with her eyes spark- 
ling, her cheeks glowing, and her whole countenance , 
expressing extrême pleasura Darting from her 
keepers, she bounded towards him with the wildest 
ejaculatîons of delight; while he stood altemately 
gazing at her and his aunts, seeking by his eyes the 
explanation he feared to demand. 

"My dearest Juliana, what is the meaning of ail 
this 1" he at length articulated. 

" Oh, you cunning thing ! So you think I don't 
know that your father has given you a great, great 
quantity of money, and that we may go away whenever 
we please, and do just as we like, and live in London, 
and — and — oh, delightful !" And she bounded and 
skipped before the eyes of the petrified spinsters. 

** In the name of heaven, what does ail this mean 1 " 
asked Henry, addressing his aunts, who, for the first 
time in their lives, were struck dumb by astonîshment 
But Miss Jacky, at length recollecting herself, turned 
to Lady JuHana, who was still testif3dng her delight 
by a variety of childish but graceful movements, and 
thus addressed her : 

"Permit me to put a few questions to your Lady- 



136 MÂRKIÀQB. 

ship, in présence of those who were witnesses of what 
has already passed." 

'^ Oh, I can't endure to be asked questions ; besîdes, 
I hâve no time to answer them." 

" Your Ladyship must excuse me ; but I can't per- 
mit you to leave this room under the influence of an 
error. Hâve the goodness to answer me the f ollowing 
questions, and you will then be at liberty to départ. 
Did I inform your Ladyship that my brother had 
given my nephew a great quantity of money?" 

" Oh yes ! a great, great deal ; I don't know how 
much, though " 

"Did lî" retumed her interrogator. 

" Come, come, hâve done with ail this conf ounded 
nonsense !" exclaimed Henry passionately. "Do you 
imagine I will allow Lady Juliana to stand hère ail 
day, to answer ail the absurd questions that come 
into the heads of three old womeni You stupefy 
and bewilder her with your etémal tattling and 
roundabout harangues." Ând he paced the room 
in a paroxysm of rage, while his wif e suspended her 
dancing, and stood ,in breathless amazement 

" I déclare — ^l'm sure — ^it's a thousand pitiés that 
there should hâve been any mistake made," whined 
poor Miss Grizzy. 

" The only remedy is to ezplain the matter quicldy," 
observed Miss Nicky ; "better late than never." 

"I hâve done," saîd Miss Jacky, seating herself 
with much dignity. 

"The short and the long of it is this," said Misa 



MABBIAGS. 187 

Nicky, "My brother bas not made Henry a présent 
ôf money. I assure you money is not so rife; but 
he bas done wbat is mucb better for you botb, — ^be 
bas made over to bim tbat fine tbrîving farm of poor 
Macglasban's." 

" No money ! " repeated Lady Juliana in a discon- 
Bolate tone : tben quickly brigbtening up, " It would 
bave been better, to be sure, to bave bad tbe money 
directly ; but you know we can easily sell tbe estate. 
How long will it take î — a week ? " 

"Sell Clackandow!" exclaimed tbe tbree borror- 
struck daugbters of tbe bouse of Douglas. "Sell 
Olackandow! Ob! ob! ob!" 

"Wbat else could we do witb itî" inquired ber 
Ladysbip. 

''live at it^ to be sure,'' cried ail tbrea 

**Iiivo at it I'' repeated sbe, witb a sbriek of borror 
ihat vied witb tbat of tbe spinsters — "Live at itl 
live on a tbriving farm ! Live ail my lif e in sucb a 
place as tbis! Obi tbe very tbougbt is enougb to 
kiflme!" . 

" Tbere is no occasion to tbînk or say any more 
about it," interrupted Henry in a calmer tone ; and, 
glancing round on bis aunts, " I tberefore désire no 
more may be said on tbe subject" 

"And is tbis really ail? And bave you got no 
money ? And are we not going away î " gasped tbe 
disappointed Lady Juliana, as sbe gave way to a 
violent burst of tears, tbat terminated in a fit of 
hystéries; at sigbt of wbicb, tbe good spinsters 



138 MABRIAGE. 

entirely forgot their wrath; and whîle one bumt 
feathers under her nose, and another held. her hands, 
a thîrd drenched her in floods of Lady Maclaughlan's 
hystérie water. After going through the regular 
routine, the lady's paroxsym sûbsided; and bemg 
carried to bed, she soon sobbed herself into a f everish 
slumber; in which state the harassed husband left 
her to attend a summons from his fathei; 



CHAPTER XIL 

* See what delîgbt in sylvan scènes appear !" 

POFX. 

" Haply this life is best, 
Sweetest to you, well corresponding 
With your stiff âge ; but unto us it is 
A cell of ignorance, a prison for a debtor." 

Oymbeline. 

He f ound the old gentleman in no very complaisant 
humour, from the disturbances that had taken place, 
but the chief canse of which he was still in ignorance 
o£ He therefore accosted his son with : 

*' What was the meaning o' aw that skirling and 
squeeling I heard a while ago 1 By my f aith, there's 
nae bearing this din t Thae beasts o' your wife'a are 
eneugh to drive a body oot o' flieir judgment But 
she maun gi'e up thae maggots when she becomes a 
f armer's wifa She maun get stirks and stots to mak' 
pets o', if she maun ha*e four-JUted f avourites ; but, to 
my mind, it wad set her better to be carrying a wise- 
like wean in her arms, than trailing aboot wi* thae 
confoonded dougs an' paurits/' 

Henry coloured, bit his lips, but made no reply to 
this élégant address of his father's, who continuedi 
'^I sent for you, sir, to hâve some conversation àbout 



140 MAKBUGIS. 

this farm of Macglashan's ; so ait down there tOl I 
show you the plana" 

Hardly conscious of what he was doing, poor 
Henry gazed in silent confusion, as bis f ather pôînted 
out the varions properties of this his future possession. 
Wholly occupied in debating within himself how he 
was to décline the offer without a downrîght quarrel, 
he heard, without understanding a word, ail the old 
gentleman's plans and proposais for building dikes, 
dnûning moss, etc. ; and, perfectly unconscious of 
what he was doing, yielded a ready assent to àll the 
improvements that were suggested 

"Then as for the hoose and offices, — ^let me see,** 
continued the Laird, as he rolled up the plans of the 
farm, and pulled forth that of the dwelling-hoose 
from a bundle of papers. " Ây, hère it is. By my 
troth, ye'll be weel lodged hère. The hoose is in a 
manner quite new, for it bas never had a brush upon 
it yet And there's a byre — fient a bit^ if I would 
mean the best man i' the country to sleep there 
himseL'" 

A pause f ollowed, during which Glenf em was busily 
employed in poring over his parchment; then taking 
off his spectacles, and surreying his son, *' And now, 
sir, that you've heard a' the oots an' ins o' the busi- 
nesS) what think you your farm should biing you at 
the year's end f 

"I — ^I — l'm sure — I — ^I don't know," stammered 
poor Henry, awakening from his rêverie. 

^Come, corne, gi'e a guesa'' 



ICABBIAGS. 141 

"I really — ^I cannot — I haven't the least îdea." 

" I désire, sir, ye'll say something directly, that I 
may jadge whether or no ye ha'e common sensé," cried 
the old gentleman angrily. 

" I should suppose — ^I imagine — I don't suppose it 
will exceed seven or eight hundred a year," said his 
son, in the greatest trépidation at this trial of his 
intellect. 

"Seven or eight hunder deevils!" cried the in- 
censed Laird, starting up and pushing his papers from 
him. "By my faith, I believe ye're a bom idiot! 
Seven or eight hunder pounds 1" repeated he, at least 
a dozen times, as he whisked up and down the little 
apiirtment with extraordinary velocity, while poor 
Henry affected to be busily employed in gathering up 
the parchments with which the floor was strewed. 

"Tll tell you what, sir," continued he, stopping; 
"you're no fit to manage a farm; you're as ignorant 
as yon coo, an' as senseless as its caul Wi' gude 
management, Clackandow should produce you twa 
hunder and odd pounds yearly ; but in your guiding 
I doot if it will yield the hall However, tak* it or 
want it, mind me, sir, that it's a' ye ha'e to trust to in 
my lifetîme ; so ye may mak' the maist o't" 

Yariousand painful werethe émotions that struggled 
in Henry's breast at this déclaration. Shame, regret, 
indignation, ail bumed within him ; but the f ear he 
entertained of his father, and the consciousness of his 
absolute dependence, chained his tongue, while the 
bitter émotions that agitated him painted themselves 



U2 MABBIAGE. 

legibly în hîs countenance. His father observed hîs 
agitation; and, mistaking the cause, felt somewhat 
softened at what he conceived his son's shame and 
pénitence for his folly. He therefore extended his 
hand towards him, saying, "Weel, weel, nae mair 
aboot it; Glackandow's yoors, as soon as I can put 
you in possession. In the meantime, stay still hère, 
and welcome." 

" I — am much obliged to you for the offer, sir ; I 
— ^feel very grateful for your kindness," at length 
articulated his son ; " but — I — am, as you observe, so 
perfectly ignorant of country matters, that I — ^I — ^în 
short, I am afraid I should make a bad hand of the 
business." 

"Nae doot, nae doot ye would, if ye was left to 
your ain discrétion; but yell get mair sensé, and I 
shall put ye upon a method, and provide ye wi' a 
grieve ; an' if you are active, and your wif e managing, 
there's nae fear o' you." 

"But Lady Juliana, sir, bas never been accus- 
tomed " 

" Let her serve an apprenticeship to your aunts ; 
she couldna be in a better schooL" 

" But her éducation, sir, bas been so différent from 
what would be required in that station," resumed her 
husband, choking with vexation, at the idea of his 
beauteous high-bom bride being doomed to the 
drudgery of household cares. 

" Edication ! what bas her edîcation been, to mak' 
her différent frae other women? If a woman can 



MABRIÀGE. 143 

nurse her baîms, mak' their claes, and manage her 
hoose, what maîr need she do ? If she can play a tune 
on the spinnet, and dance a réel, and play a rubber 
at whist — nae doot thèse are accomplishments, but 
they're soon leamt Edicatîon ! pooh ! — TU be bound 
Leddy Jully Anie wull mak' as gude a figure by-and- 
by as the best edicated woman in the country/' 

" But she dislikes the country, and " 

" Shell soon corne to lilçe it Walt a wee till she 
has a wheen baims, an' a hoose o' her aîn, an' l'il be 
bound shell be happy as the day's lang." 

" But the climate does not agrée with her," con- 
tînued the tender husband, almost driven to extremi- 
ties by the persevering simpKcity of his father. 

" Stay a wee till she gets to Clackandow ! There's 
no a finer, freer-aired situation in a' Scotland. The 
air's sharpish, to be sure, but fine and bracing ; and 
you hâve a braw peat-moss at your back to keep you 
warm." 

Finding ît in vain to attempt insinuating his objec- 
tions to a pastoral lif e, poor Henry was at length re- 
duced to the necessity of coming to the point with 
the old gentleman, and telling him plainly that it 
was not at ail suited to his inclinations, or Lady 
Juliana's rank and beauty. 

Vain would be the attempt to paint the fiery wrath 
and indignation of the ancient Highlander as the 
naked truth stood revealed before him : — that his son 
despised the occupation of his fathers, even the feed- 
ing of sheep and the breeding of black cattle; and 



144 MABRIAGK. 

tihat his high-bom spouse was abo^e falfilUng those 
duties which he had ever consîdered the chief end 
for which woman was created. He swore, stamped, 
screamed, and even skipped with rage, and, in short^ 
went through ail the évolutions as usually performed 
by testy old gentlemen on first discovering that they 
hâve disobedient sons and undutif ul daughters. Henry, 
who, though uncommonly good-tempered, inherited a 
portion of his father's warmth, became at length irri- 
tated at the invectiyes that were so Kberally bestowed 
on him, and replied in language less respectful than 
the old Laird was accustomed to hear ; and the alter^ 
cation became so violent that they parted in mutual 
anger ; Henry retoming to his wife's apartment in a 
State of the greatest disquietude he had ever known. 
To her childish complaints, and tiresome complaints, 
he no longer vouchsafed to reply, but paced the 
chamber with a disordered mien, in suUen silence; 
till at length, distracted by her reproaches, and dis- 
gusted with her selfîshness, he rushed from the apart- 
ment and quitted the housa 



OHAPTEB Xm 

**ICeiver talk to ma ; I will ^retp.* 

TwiOE had ihe dinner bell been loudly sonnded by 
old Donald, and the family of Glenfem were ail 
assembled, yet their fashionable gaests had not 
appeared. Impatient of delay. Miss Jacky hastened 
to ascertain the cause. Presently she retumed in the 
ntmost perturbation, and announced ihat Lady Juliana 
was in bed in a high f ever, and Henry nowhere to be 
found. The whole eight rushed upstairs to ascertain 
the fact, leaving the old gentleman much discomposed 
at this unseasonable delay. 

Some time elapsed ère they again retumed, which 
they did with lengthened faces, and in extrême per- 
turbation. They had found their noble nièce, accord- 
ing to Miss Jacky's report, in bed — according to Miss 
Grizzy's opinion, in a brain f ever ; as she no sooner 
perceived them enter, than she covered her head with 
the bedclothes, and continued screaming for them to 
be gone, till they had actually quitted the apartment 

*' And what proves beyond a doubt that our sweet 
nièce is not hersel^" continued poor Miss Grizzy» in a 

YOU L h M. 



146 MARRIAGE. 

lamentable tone, " is that we appeared to her in every 
form but our own ! She sometimes took us for cats ; 
then thought we were ghosts haunting her ; and, in 
short, it is impossible to tell ail the things she called 
us ; and she screams so for Harry to come and take 
her away that I am sure — I déclare — I don*t know 
what's come over her !" 

Mrs. Douglas could scarce suppress a smile at the 
simplicity of the good spinsters. Her husband and 
she had gone out immediately after breakfast to pay 
a visit a few miles off, and did not retum till near 
the dinner hour. They were therefore ignorant of ail 
that had been acted during their absence; but as 
she suspected something was amiss, she requested the 
rest of the company would proceed to dinner, and 
leave her to ascertain the nature of Lady Juliana's 
disorder. 

" Don't come near me ! " shrieked her Ladyship, 
on hearing the door open. " Send Harry to take me 
away; I don't want anybody but Harry!" — and a 
torrent of tears, sobs, and exclamations foUoweA 

"My dear Lady Juliana," said Mrs. Douglas, 
softly approaching the bed, " compose yourself ; and 
if my présence is disagreeable to you I shall imme- 
diately withdraw." 

" Oh, is it you ? " cried her sîster-in-law, uncover- 
ing her face at the sound of her voice. " I thought it 
had been thèse frightful old women come to tormént 
me ; and I «hall die — I know I shall — ^if ever I look 
at them again. But I don't dislike you ; so you may 



MAÎIRIAGE. 147 

stay îf you choose, though I don*t wanfc anybody buf. 
Harty to corne and take me away." 

A fresh fit of sobbing hère impeded her utterance ; 
and Mrs. Douglas, compassionating her distress, while 
she despised her folly, seated herself by the bedside, 
and taking her hand, in the sweetest tone of corn- 
placency attempted to soothe her into composure. 

" The only way in which you can be less misérable," 
said Mr& Douglas in a soothing tone, '4s to support 
your présent situation with patience, which you may 
do by looking forward to brighter prospects. It is 
possible that your àtay hère may be short ; and it is 
certain that it is in your own power to render your 
life more agreeable by endeavouring to accommodate 
yourself to the peculiaritiês of your husband's family 
No doubt they are often tiresome and ridiculous ; bufc 
they are always kind and well-meaning." 

" You may say what you please, but I think them 
ail odious créatures; and I won't live hère with 
* patience ; and I shan't be agreeable to them ; and ail 
the talking in the world won't make me less misérable. 
If you were me, you would be just the same ; but 
you hâve never been in London — that's the reason." 

"Pardon me," replied her sister-in-law, "I spent 
many years of my life there." 

" You hved in London ! " repeated Lady Juliana 
in astonishment " And how, then, can you contrive 
to exist hère ? " 

" I not only contrive to exist, but to be extremely 
contented with existence," said Mrs. Douglas, with a 



148 MÂBBXAGX. 

smile. Then assaming a more serions air, "I possess 
health, peace of mind, and the affections of a worthy 
hnsband : and I should be very undeserving of thèse 
blessings were I to give way to uselees i^grets or 
indulge in impious repinings because my happinesa 
might once hâve been more perfect, and still admits 
of improvement" 

" I don't nnderstand yon/' said Lady Juliana, wîth 
a peevish yawn. " Who did yon live with in Londonl" 

" With my aunt, Lady Audley." 

"With Lady Audley!" repeated her sister-in-law 
in accents of astonishment. " Why, I hâve heard of 
her ; she lived qiiite in the world ; and gave balls and 
assemblies ; so that's the reason you are not so dis- 
agreeable as the rest of them. Why did yon not 
remain with her, or marry an Englishman? But I 
suppose, like me, you didn't know what Scotland 
was!" 

Happy to hâve excited an interest, even through 
the médium of childish curiosity, in the bosom of her 
fashionable relative, Mrs. Douglas briefly related such 
circumstances of her past life as she judged proper 
to communicate ; but as she sought rather to amuse 
than instruct by her simple narrative, we shall allow 
her to pursue her charitable intentions, while we 
do more justice to her character by introducing her 
regularly to the acquaintance of our readera 



MASRIAGE. 149 



** The selfish heart deserves the pang it feels; 
More geuerous sorrow, while it sinks, exalta. 
And conacioua yirtae mitigatea the iMuig." 

YOUNO. 

Mrs. Douglas was, on the maternai side, related to 
an English family. Her mother had dîed in giving 
birth to her ; and her f ather, shortly af ter, f alling in 
the service of his country, she had been consigned in 
infancy to the care of her aunt Lady Audley had 
taken charge of her, on condition that she should 
never be claimed by her Scottish relations, for whom 
that lady entertained as much aversion as contempt 
 latent feeling of afifection for her departed sister, 
and a large portion of family pride, had prompted her 
wish of becoming the protectress of her orphan nièce ; 
and, possessed of a high sensé of rectitude and honoor, 
she f ulfilled the duty thus voluntarily imposed in a 
manner that secured the unshaken gratitude of the 
virtuous Alicia. 

Lady Âudley was a character more esteemed and 
feared than loved, even by those with whom she was 
most intimate. Firm, upright, and rigid, she exacted 
frorn others those inflexible virtues which in herself 



150 MARRIAGE. 

she found no obstacle to performing. Neglecting the 
softer attractions which shed their benign influence 
over the commerce of social life, she was content to 
enjoy the extorted esteem of her associâtes; for friends 
she had none. She sought in the world for objects to 
fill up the void which her heart could not supply. 
She loved éclat, and had succeeded in creating herself 
an existence of importance in the circles of high life, 
which she considered more as due to her conséquence 
than essential to her enjo3rment. She had early in 
life been left a widow, with the sole tutelage and 
management of an only son, whose large estate she 
regulated with the most admirable prudence and 
judgment 

Alicia Malcolm was put under the care of her aunt 
at two years of âge. A govemess had been procured 
for her, whose character was such as not to impair 
the promising dispositions of her pupiL Alicia was 
gifted by nature with a warm affectionate heart, and 
a calm imagination attempered its influence. Her 
govemess, a woman of a strong understanding and 
enlarged mind, early instilled into her a deep and 
strong sensé of religion ; and to it she owed the 
support which had safely guided her through the 
most trying vicissitudes. 

When at the âge of seventeen Alicia Malcolm was 
produced in the world. She was a rational, cheerful, 
and sweet-tempered girl, with a finely f ormed person, 
and a countenance in which was so clearly painted the 
sunshine of her breast, that it attracted the hxenveïll- 



MAKRIAGE. 151 

ance even of those who had not taste or judgment to 
define the charm. Her open natural manner, blend- 
ing the frankness of the Scotch with the polished 
réserve of the English woman, her total exemption 
from yanity, calculated alike to please others and main- 
tain her own cheerf ulness undimmed by a single doud, 

Lady Audley felt for her nièce a sentiment which 
ahe mistook for affection; her self- approbation was 
gratified at the contemplation of a being who owed 
every advantage to her, and whom she had rescued 
from the coarseness and vulgarity which she deemed 
inséparable from the manners of every Scotchwoman. 

If Lady Audley really loved any human being 
ît was her son. In him were centred her dearest 
interests ; on his aggrandisement and future import- 
ance hung her most sanguine hopes. She had acted 
contrary to the advice of her maie relations, and 
followed her own judgment, by giving her son a 
private éducation. He was brought up under her 
own eye by a tutor of deep érudition, but who was 
totally unfitted for forming the mind, and compensat- 
ing for those advantages which may be derived from 
a public éducation. The circumstances of his éduca- 
tion, however, combined rather to stifle the exposure 
than to destroy the existence of some very 4aJigerous 
qualities that seemed inhérent in Sir Edmund's nature. 
He was ardent, impetuous, and passionate, though 
thèse propensities were cloaked by a reserve, partly 
natural, and partly arising from the repelling manners 
of his mother and tutor. 



162 UASBUGE. 

His iras not the effervescence of «haracter which 
bursts forth on eveiy trivial occasion ; but when any 
powerful cause awakened the slumbering inmates of 
his breast, thej blazed wîth an uncontrolled fuij ihat 
defied ail opposition, and overleaped ail bounds of 
reason and décorum. 

Expérience often shows us that minds f ormed of 
the most opposite attributes more forcibly attract each 
other than those which* appear cast in the same mould. 
The source of this fascination is diffîcult to trace ; it 
possesses not reason for its basis, yet it is perhaps the 
more tyrannical in its influence from that very cause. 
The weakness of our natures occasionally makes us 
feel a potent charm in *' errors of a noble mind." 

Sir Edmund Audley and Alicia Malcolm proved 
examples of this observation. The affection of child- 
hood had so gradually ripened into a warmer senti- 
ment, that neither was conscious of the nature of that 
sentiment till after it had attained strength to cast a 
material influence on their after lives. The f amiliarity 
of near relatives associating constantly together pro- 
duced a warm sentiment of affection, cemented by 
similarity of pursuits, and enlivened by diversity of 
character ; while the perf ect tranquillity of their lives 
afforded no event that could withdraw the veil of 
ignorance from their eyes. 

Could a woman of Lady Audley's discemment» it 
may be asked, place two young persons in such a 
situation, and doubt the conséquences) Those who 
are no longer young are liable to f orget that love is h 



i ■ 



MABBU.GE. 163 

plant of early growtli, and that the indîviduals that 
they hâve but a short tîme before beheld placing 
their suprême felicity on a rattle and a go-cart can 
80 soon be actuated by the strongest passions of the 
human breast 

Sir Edmund completed his nineteenth year, and 
Mcia entered her eighteenth, when this happy state 
of unconscious security was destroyed by a circum- 
stance which rent the vell f rom her eyes, and disclosed 
his sentiments in ail their energy and warmth. This 
circumstance was no other than a proposai of marriage 
to Alicia from a gentleman of large fortune and bril- 
liant connexions who resided in their neighbourhood. 
His character was as little calculated as his appearance 
to engage the affections of a young woman of delicacy 
and goôd sensé. But he was a man of conséquence ; 
heir to an earldom; member for the county; and 
Lady Audley, rejoicing at what she termed Alicia's 
good fortune, determined that she should become his 
wifa 

With mild firmness she rejected the honour 
intended her; but it was with difficulty that Lady 
Audley's mind could adopt or understand the idea of 
an opposition to her wishe& She could not seriously 
embrace the conviction that Alicia was determined 
to disobey her ; and in order to bring her to a right 
understanding she underwent a System of persécution 
that tended naturally to increase the antipathy her 
suitor had inspired. Lady Audley, with the indis- 
eriminatmg zeal of prejudiced and overbearing persons. 



1*54 MARRIAGE. 

strove to recommend him to her nièce by ail those 
attributes which were of value in her own eyes; 
making allowance for a certain degree of indécision 
in her nièce, but never admitting a doubt that in due 
time her will should be obeyed, as it had always 
hitherto been. 

At this juncture Sir Edmund came down to the 
country, and was struck by the altered looks and 
pensive manmers of his once cheerful cousin. About 
a week after his arrivai he found Alicia one moming 
in tears, after a long conversation with Lady Audley. 
Sir Edmund tenderly soothed her, and entreated to 
be made acquainted with the cause of her distress. 
She was so habituated to impart every thought to her 
cousin, the intimacy and sympathy of their soûls were 
so entire, that she would not hâve concealed the late 
occurrence from him had she not been withheld by 
the natural timidity and delicacy a young woman feels 
in making her own conquests the subject of conversa- 
tion. But now so pathetically and irresistibly pér- 
suaded by Sir Edmund, and sensible that every dis- 
tress of hers wounded his heart, Alicia candidly 
related to him the pursuit of her disagreeable suitor, 
and the importunities of Lady Audley in his favour. 
Every word she had spoken had more and more dis- 
pelled the mist that had so long hung over Sir 
Edmund's inclinations. At the first mention of a 
Suitor, he had felt that to be hers was a happiness 
that comprised ail others ; and thaf the idea of losing 
her made the whole of existence appear a frightfnl 



MABBIAGE. 155 

blank Thèse feelings were no sooner known to him- 
self than spontaneously poured into lier delighted 
eaxs; while she felt that every sentiment met a 
kindred one in her breast Alicia sought not a 
moment to disguise those feelings, which she now, for 
the first time, became aware of ; they were known to 
the object of her innocent affection as soon as to her- 
self, and both were convinced that, though not con- 
SGÎous before of the nature of tUeir sentiments, love 
had long been mistaken for friendship in their hearta 

But this state of blissf ul serenity did not last long. 
On the evening of the foUowing day Lady Audley 
sent for her to her dressing-room. On entering, 
Alicia was panic-struck at her aunt's pale countenance, 
fiery eyes, and frame conyulsed with passion. With 
diflSculty Lady Audley, struggling for calmness, de- 
manded an instant and decided reply to the proposais 
of Mr. Gompton, the gentleman who had solicited 
her hand. Alicia entreated her aunt to waive the 
subject, as she found it impossible ever to consent to 
such a union. 

Scarcely was her answer uttered when Lady 
Audley's anger burst forth uncontrollably. She ac- 
cused her nièce of the vilest ingratitude in having 
seduced her son from the obédience he owed his 
mother; of having plotted to ally her base Scotch 
blood to the noble blood of the Audleys ; and, having 
exhausted every opprobrious epithet, she was forced 
to stop from want of breath to proceed. As Alicia 
listened to the cruel, unfounded reproaches of her 



156 MABKIÀGE. 

aunt^ her spîrît rose under the unmeiited ill-usage, 
but her conscience absolved her from ail intention of 
injuring or deceiving a human being ; and she calmly 
waited till Lady Audley's anger should bave exhausted 
itself, and then entreated to know wbat part of her 
conduct had ezcited her aunt's displeasure. 

Lady Audley's reply was diffuse and intemperata 
Âlicia gathered from it that. her rage had its source in 
a déclaration her son had made to her of bis affection 
for bis cousin, and bis resolution of marrying her as 
8oon as he was of âge; which open avowal of bis 
sentiments had followed Lady Audley's injunctions to 
bim to forward the suit of Mr. Compton. 

That her son, for whom she had in view one of the 
first matches in the kingdom, should dare to choose 
for himself ; and, above ail, to choose one whom she 
considered as much bis inferor in birth as she was in 
fortune, was a circumstance quite insupportable to her 
feelings. 

Of the existence of love Lady Audley had little 
conception ; and she attributed her son's conduct to 
wilful disobedience and obstinacy. In proportion as 
she had hitherto f ound bim complying and gentle, her 
wrath had kindled at bis présent firmness and inflexi- 
bibty. So bitter were her reflections on bis conduct, 
so severe her animadversions on the being he loved, 
that Sir Edmund, fired with resentment, expressed 
bis resolution of acting according to the dictâtes of 
bis own will; and expressed bis contempt for her 
autbority in terms the most unequivocai Lady 



MABRUGE. 167 

Audley, ignorant of the arts of persuasion, by every 
Word she uttered more and more widened the breach 
her imperiousness had occasioned, until Sir Edmund, 
feeling himself no longer master of his temper, an- 
nounc^d his intention of leaving the house, to allow 
his mother time to reconcile herself to the inévitable 
misfortune of beholding him the husband of Alicia 
Malcolm. 

He instantly ordered his horses and departed, 
leaving the f oUowing letter for his cousin : — 

" I hâve been compelled by motives of prudence, 
of which you are the sole objecta to départ without 
seeing you. My absence became necessary from the 
unexpected conduct of Lady Audley, which has led 
me so near to forgetting that she was my mother, 
that I dare not remain, and subject myself to excesses 
of temper which I might afterwards repent Two 
years must elapse before I can become legally my 
own master, and should Lady Audley so far départ 
from the dictâtes of cool judgment as still to oppose 
what she knows to be inévitable, I f ear that we cannot 
meet till then. My heart is well known to you; 
therefore I need not enlarge on the pain I feel at this 
unlooked-for séparation. At the same time, I am 
cheered with the prospect of the imspeakable happi- 
ness that awaits me — the possession of your hand; 
and the confidence ï feel in your constancy is in pro- 
portion to the certainty I expérience in my own; 
I cannot^ therefore, fear that any of the means which 



158 MAKRIAGIl 

may be put in practice to disunite us will hâve more 
eifect on you than on ma 

" Looking forward to the moment that shall make 
you mine for ever, I remaîn with steady confidence 
and unspeakable affection, your 

"Edmund Axjdley." 

With a trembling frame Alicîa handed the note to 
Lady Audley, and begged leave to retire for a short 
time ; expressing her wilHngness to reply at another 
moment to any question her aunt might choose to 
put to her with regard to her engagement with Sir 
Edmund. 

In the solitude of her own chamber Alicia gave 
way to those feelings of wretchedness which she had 
with difficulty stifled in the présence of Lady Audley, 
and bitterly wept over the extinction of her bright 
and newly-formed visions of felicity. To yield to 
unmerited ill-usage, or to crouch beneath imperious 
and self-arrogated power, Vas not in the nature of 
Alicia ; and had Lady Audley been a stranger to her, 
the path of duty would hâve been less intricate. 
However much her own pride might hâve been 
wounded by entering into a family which considered 
her as an intruding beggar, never would she hâve 
consented to sacrifice the virtuous inclinations of the- 
man she loved to the will of an arrogant and imperious 
mother. But alas ! the case was far différent The 
récent ill-treatment she had experienced from Lady 
Audley could not efface from her noble mind the 



MAERIAGE. 159 

recollectîon of benefits conferred from tibe earliest 
period of her life, and of unvarying attention to her 
welfara To her aunt she owed ail but existence: 
she had wholly snpported her ; bestowed on her the 
most libéral éducation ; and from Lady Audley sprang 
every pleasure she had hitherto enjoyed. 

Had she been brought up by her patemal relations, 
she would in ail probability never hâve beheld her 
cousin ; and the mother and son might hâve lived in 
uninterrupted concord. Could she be the person to 
inflict on Lady Audley the severest disappointment 
she could expérience 1 The thought was too dreadf ul 
to bear ; and, knowing that procrastination could but 
increase her misery, no sooner had she felt convinced 
of the true nature of her duty than she made a steady 
resolution to perform and to adhère to it Lady 
Audley had vowed that whUe she had life she vxmld never 
give her consent and a/pprobaiion to her son* s maniage ; 
and Alicia was too well acquainted with her disposition 
to hâve the f aintest expectation that she would relent. 

But to remain any longer under her protection 
was impossible; and she resolved to anticipate any 
proposai of that sort from her protectress. 

When Lady Audley's passion had somewhat cooled, 
she again sent for Alicia. She began by repeating 
her etemal enmity to the marriage in a manner impres- 
sive to the greatest degree, and still more décisive in 
its form by the cool collectedness of her manner. 
She then desired to hear what Alicia had to say in 
exculpatîon of her conduct 



160 HARRIAGE. 

The profoimd sorrow whîch filled ihe heart of 
Alicia left no room for timidity or indecûion. She 
answered her without hésitation and embarrassment, 
and asserted her innocence of ail deceit in such a 
manner as to leave no doubt at least of hononrable 
proceeding. In a few impressive words she proved 
herself sensible of the benefits her annt had throngh 
life conferred upon her; and, while she openly pro- 
fessed to think herself, in the présent instance, 
deeplj wronged, she declared her détermination of 
never uniting herself to her cousin without Ladj 
Audley's permission, which she felt convinced was 
unattainable. 

She then proceeded to ask where she should deem 
it most advisable for her to réside in future. 

Happy to find her wishes thus prevented, the un- 
feeling aunt expressed her satisfaction at Âlicia's good 
sensé and discrétion ; represented, in what she thought 
glowing colours, the unheard-of presumptîon it would 
hâve been in her to take advantage of Sir Edmund's 
momentary inf atuation ; and then launched ont into 
détails of her ambitîous views for him in a matrimonial 
alliance — ^views which she affected now to consider 
without obstacle. 

Alicia interrupted the paînful and unf eeling har* 
angue. It was neither, she said, for Sir Edmund's 
adyautage nor to gratify his mother^s pride, but to 
perform the dictâtes of her own conscience, that she 
had resigned him ; she even ventured to déclare that 
the sharpest pang which that résignation had cost her 



MÀBBIAGl. 161 

was the firm conviction that it wonld inâict upon him 
a deep and lasting sorrow. 

Lady Audley, convineed that moderato measures 
wonld be most likely to ensure a continuation of 
Alicia's obédience, expressed herself grieved at the 
necessity of partîng with her, and pleased that she 
should haye the good sensé to perçoive the propriety 
of sach a séparation. 

Sir Duncan Malcolm, the grandf ather of Alicia, had, 
in the f ew communications that had passed between 
Lady Audiey and him, always expressed a wish to see 
his granddanghter before he died. Her ladyship's 
antipathy to Scotland was such that she wonld hâve 
deemed it absolute contamination for her nièce to 
hâve entered the country; and she had therefore 
ilways eluded the request 

It was now, of ail plans, the most eligible ; and she 
gracionsly offered to convey her nièce as far as Edin- 
burgh. The joumey was immediately settled; and 
before Alicia left her aunt's présence a promise was 
exacted with onf eeling tenacity, and given with melan- 
choly fimmess, never to unité herself to Sir Edmund 
misanctioned by his mother. 

Alas 1 how imperf ect is human wisdom ! Even in 
seeking to do right how many are the errors we 
commit ! Alicia. judged wrong in thus sacrificing the 
happiness of Sir Edmund to the pride and injustice 
of his mother; but her error was that of a nobl^'V^ 
seU-denying spirit, entitled to respect, even though it ^ 
cannot claim approbation. The honourable open con* 

VOL. I. M M. 



162 MAEBIAGK. 

duct of her nièce had so far gained upon Lady Audley 
that she did not object to her writing to Sir Edmund, 
which she did as f ollows : — 

"Dear Sir Edmund — ^A painful line of conduct 
is pointed out to me by duty ; yet of ail the regrets 
I feel not one is so poignant as the consciousness of 
that which you will feel at leaming that I hâve for 
ever resigned the claims you so lately gave me to your 
heart and hand. It was not weakness — it could not 
be inconstancy— that produced the painful sacrifice of 
a distinction still more gratifying to my heart than 
flattering to my pride. 

" Need I remind you that to your mother I owe 
every benefit in life ? Nothing can release me from 
the tribute of gratitude which would be ill repaid by 
braving her authority and despising her wiU. Should 
I give her reason to regret the hour she received me 
under her roof, to repent of every benefit she has 
hitherto bestowed on me; should I draw down a 
mother's displeasure, what reasonable hopes could we 
entertain of soHd peace through life ? I am not in a 
situation which entitles me to question the justice of 
Lady Audley's will; and that will has pronounced 
that I shall never be Sir Edmund's wife. 

" Your first impulse may perhaps be to accuse me 
of coldness and ingratitude in quitting the place and 
country you inhabit, and resigning you back to your- 
self, without personally taking leave of you; but I trust 
that you will, on reflection, absolve me from the charge. 



MARRIA6E. 163 

** Could I hâve had any grounds to suppose that a 
Personal interview would be productive of comfort to 
you, I would hâve joyfully supported the suflferings 
it would hâve inflicted on myself. But question your 
own heart as to the use you would hâve made of such 
a meeting ; bear in mind that Lady Audley has my 
solemn promise never to be y ours — a promise not 
lightly given ; then imagine what must hâve been an 
interview between us under such circumstances. 

"In proof of an affection which I can hâve no 
reason to doubt, I conjure you to listen to the last 
request I shaU ever make to my dear cousia Give 
me the heartfelt satisfaction to know that my départ- 
ure has put an end to those disagreements between 
mother and son of which I hâve been the innocent 
causa 

" You hâve no reason to blâme Lady Audley for 
this last step of mina I hâve not been intimidated— 
threats, believe me, never would hâve extorted from 
me a promise to renounce you, had not Virtue herself 
dictated the sacrifice; and my reward will spring 
from the conviction that, as far as my judgment could 
discem, I hâve acted right 

"Forget, I entreat you, this inauspîcious passion. 
Eesolve, like me, to resign yourself, without murmur- 
ing, to what is now past recall; and, instead of in- 
dulging melancholy, regain, by a timely exertion of 
mind and body, that serenity which is the portion of 
ihose who hâve obeyed the dictâtes of rectitude. 

"Farewell, Sir Edmund. May every happinesa 



164 MABBIAGE. 

attend your future lif e ! While I strive to f orget my 
ill-fated affection, the still stronger feelings of grati- 
tude and esteem for jou can never fade from the 
heartof ^'AuciA Maloolbi'' 

To 8ay that no tears were shed during the com- 
position of this letter would be to overstrain forti- 
tude beyond natural bounds. With difficulty Alicia 
checked the effusions of her pen. She wished to hâve 
said much more, and to hâve soothed the agony of 
renunciation by painting with warmth her tendemess 
and her regret; but reason urged that, in exciting 
his feelings and displaying her own, she would defeat 
the chief purpose of her letter. She haatily closed 
and directed it, with a feeling almost aldn to despair. 

The necessary arrangements for the joumey having 
been hastily made, the ladies set out two days aftei 
Sir Edmund had so hastily quitted them. The un- 
complaining Alicia buried her woes in her own bosom; 
and neither murmurs on the one hand, nor reproaches 
on the other, were heard. 

At the end of four days the travellers entered 
Scotland ; and when they stopped for the night, 
Alicia, fatigued and dispîrited, retired immediately to 
her apartment 

She had been there but a few minutes when the 
chambermaid knocked at the door, and informed her 
that she was wanted below. 

Supposing that Lady Audley had sent for her, she 
f oUowed the girl without observing that she was con- 



j 



MABRIAGE. 165 

dacted in an opposite direction ; whën, upon entering 
an apartment) what was her astonishment at finding 
herself, not in the présence of Lady Audley, but in 
the arms of Sir Edmund ! In the utmost agitation, 
she sought to disengage herself from his ahnost frantic 
embrace; while he poured forth a torrent of rapturons 
exclamations, and swore that no human power should 
ever divide them again. 

"I hâve foUowed your steps, dearest Âlicîa, from 
the moment I received your letter. We are now in 
Scotland — in this blessed land of liberty. Eveiything 
is arrangedj the clergyman is now in waiting; and 
in fiye minutes you shall be my own beyond the 
power of fate^to sever us," 

Too much agitated to reply, Âlicia wept in silence; 
and in the delight of once more beholding him she 
had thought never more to behold^ forgot^ for a 
moment^ the duty she had imposed upon herself. 
But the native energy of her character returned. 
She raised her head, and attempted to withdraw from 
the encircling arms of her cousin. 

" Never until you hâve vowed to be mine ! The 
clergjrman — the carriage — everything is in readiness. 
Speak but the word, dearest" And he knelt at her 
feet 

At this juncture the door opened, and, pale^with 
rage, her eyes flashing fîre, Lady Audley stood before 
them. A dreadful scène now ensued. Sir Edmund 
disdained to enter into any justification of his con- 
duct^ or even to reply to the invectives of his mothei; 



166 MABRIÀGE. 

but lavîshed the most tender a^iduities on Alieia ; 
who, overcome more by the conflicts of her own heart 
than with alarm at Lady Audley's violence, sât the 
pale and siïent image of consternation. 

Baffled by her son's indignant disregard, Lady 
Audley tumed ail her f ury on her nièce ; and, in the 
most opprobrious terms that rage could invent, up- 
braided her with deceit and treachery — accusing her 
of making her pretended submission instrumental 
to the more speedy accomplishment of her marriage. 
Too much incensed to reply, Sir Edmund seized his 
cousines hand, and was leading her from the room. 

"Go, then — go, marry her; but first hear me 
swear, solemnly swear" — and she raised her hand 
and eyes to heaven — "that my malédiction shall be 
your portion! Speak but the word, and no power 
shall make me withhold it ! " 

"Dear Edmund!" exclaimed Alieia, distractedly, 
" never ought I to hâve aUowed time for the terrify- 
ing words that hâve f allen from Lady Audley's lips ; 
never for me shall your mother's malédiction fall on 
you. Farewell for ever ! " and, with the strength of 
desperation, she rushed past him, and quitted the 
room. Sir Edmund madly foUowed, but in vain. 
Alicia's feelings were too highly wrought at that 
moment to be touched even by the man she loved ; 
and, without an additional pang, she saw him throw 
himself into the carriage which he had destined for 
so différent a purpose, and quit for ever the woman 
he adored. 



HAUBIAGE. 167 

It may easîly be conceîved of how painful a nature 
must hâve been the future intercourse betwixt Lady 
Audley and lier nieca The former seemed to regard 
her victim with that haughty distance which the un- 
relenting oppresser never f ails to entertain towards the 
object of his tyranny ; while even the gentle Alicia, 
on her part, shrank, with ill-concealed abhorrence, 
from the présence of that being whose stem decree 
had blasted ail the fairest blossoms of her happiness. 

Alicia was received with affection by her grand- 
father; and she laboured to drive away the heavy 
despondency which pressed on her spirits by study- 
îng his taste and humours, and striving to contribute 
to his comfort and amusement 

Sir Duncan had chosen the time of Alicia's ?ffrival 
to transact some business ; and înstead of retum- 
ing immediately to the Highlands, he determined to 
remain some weeks in Edinburgh for her amusement 

But, little attractive as dissipation had been, it 
was now absolutely répugnant to Alicia, She loathed 
the idea of mixing in scènes of amusement with a 
heart incapable of joy, a spirit indiffèrent to every 
object that surrounded her; and in solitude alono 
8he expected graduaUy to regam her peace of mind. 

In the amusements of the gay season of Edinburgh 
Alicia expected to ffnd ail the vanity, emptiness, and 
frivolity of London dissipation, without its varied 
brilliancy and élégant luxury; yet, so much was it 
the habit of her mind to look to the fairest side of 
things, and to extract some advantage from every 



168 MABRIAGE. 

situation in which she was placed, that pendre and 
thoughtful as was her disposition, the discriminating 
only perceived her deep déjection, while ail admired her 
benpvolence of manner and unaffected désire to please. 

By degrees Alicia found that in some points she 
had been inaccurate in her idea of the style of liying 
of those who form the best society of Edinburgh. 
The circle is so confined that its members are almost 
universally known to each other ; and those varions 
gradations of gentility, from the cit's snug party to 
the duchess's most crowded assembly, ail totally dis- 
tinct and separate, which are to be met with in 
London, hâve no prototype in Edinburgh. There the 
ranks and fortunes being more on an equality, no one 
is able greatly to exceed his neighbour in luxury and 
extravagance. Great magnificence, and the conséquent 
gratification produced by the envy of others being out 
of the question, the object for which a reunion of 
individuals was originally invented becomes less of a 
secondary considération. Private parties for the actual 
purpose of society and conversation are fréquent, and 
answer the destined end ; and in the societies of pro- 
fessed amusement are to be met the learned, the 
étudions, and the rational ; not presented as shows to 
the Company by the host and hostess, but professedly 
seeking their own gratification. 

Still the lack of beauty, fashion, and élégance dis- 
appoint the stranger accustomed to their biilliant 
combination in a London world. But Alicia had long 
since sickened in the metropolis at the frivolity of 



1IABBIAG& 169 

beauty, the heartlessness of f ashion, and tibe insîpîdity 
of élégance ; and it was a relief to her to tum to the 
variety of character she found beneath the cloak of 
simple, eccentric, and sometimes coarse manners. 

We are never long so totally abstracted by our 
own feelings as to be unconscious of the attempts of 
othe^rs to please us« In Alicia, to be conscious of it 
and to be grateful was the same movement. Yet she 
was sensible that so many persons could not in that 
short period hâve become seriously interested in her. 
The observation dîd not escape her how mach an 
English stranger is looked up to for fashion and taste 
in Edinburgh, though possessing little merît save that 
of being English ; yet she f elt gratified and thankful 
for the kindness and attention that greeted her ap- 
pearance on ail sides. 

Amongst the many who ezpressed goodwill towards 
Alicia there were a f ew whose kindness and real affec- 
tion f ailed not to meet with a retum f rom her ; and 
others whose rich and varied powers of mind for the 
first time afiforded her a true spécimen of the exalting 
enjoyment produced by a conmiiinion of intellect. 
She feit the powers of her understanding enlarge in 
proportion ; and, with this mental activity, she sought 
to solace the languor of her heart and save it from 
the listlessness of despair. 

Alicia had been about sis weeks in Edinburgh 
when she received a letter from Lady Audley. No 
allusions were made to the past; she wrote upon 
gênerai topics, in the cold manner that might be used 



170 MABRIAGE. 

to a common acquaintance ; and slightly named her 
son as having set ont upon a tour to the Continent. 

Alicia's heart was heavy as she read the heartless 
ietter of the woman whose cruelty had not been able 
to eradicate wholly f rom her breast the strong durable 
affection of early habit 

Sir Duncan ànd Alicia spent two months in Edin- 
burgh, at the end of which time they went to bis 

country seat in shire. The adjacent country was 

picturesque; and Sir Duncan's résidence, though bear- 
ing marks of the absence of taste and comfort in its 
arrangements, possessed much natural beauty. 

Two years of tranquil seclusion had passed over 
her head when her dormant feeUngs were ail aroused 
by a Ietter from Sir Edmund. It inf ormed her that 
he was now of âge ; that his affection remained un- 
altérable; that he was newly arrived from abroad ; and 
that, notwithstanding the death-blow she had given 
to his hopes, he could not refrain, on retuming to his 
native land, from assuring her that he was resolved 
never to pay his addresses to any other woman. He 
concluded by declaring his intention of presenting 
himself at once to Sir Duncan, and soliciting his per- 
mission to claim her hand : when ail scruples relatîng 
to Lady Audley must, from her change of abode, be 
at an end. 

Alicia read the Ietter with grateful affection and 
poignant regret Again she shed the bitter tears of 
disappointment, at the hard task of refusing for a 
second time so noble and affectionate a heart But 



MARRUGB. 171 

conscience whispered that to hold a passive line of 
conduct would be, in some measure, to deceive Lady 
Audley's expectations ; and she felt, with exquisite 
anguish, that she had no means to put a final stop to 
Sir Edmund's pursuits, and to her own trials, but by 
bestowing her hand on another. The first dawning 
of this idea was accompanied by the most violent 
burst of anguish; but^ far from driving away the 
painful subject, she strove to render it less appalling 
by dwelling upon it, and labouring to recondle herself 
to what seemed her only plan of conduct She 
acknowledged to herself that, to remain still single, a 
prey to Sir Edmund's importunities and the continuai 
temptations of her own heart, was, for the sake of 
présent indulgence, submitting to a fiery ordeal, from 
which she could not escape unblamable without the 
most repeated and agonising conflicts. 

Three months still remained for her of peace and 
liberty, af ter which Sir Duncan would go to Edinburgh. 
There she would be sure of meeting with the loVed 
companion of her youthful days; and the lurking 
weakness of her own breast would then be seconded 
by the passionate éloquence of the being she most 
loved and admired upon earth. 

She wrote to him, repeating her former arguments; 
declaring that she could never feel herself absolved 
from the promise she had given Lady Audley but by 
that lady herself, and imploring him to abandon a 
pursuit which would be productive only of lasting pain 
to both. 



172 MÀBBIAGE. 

Her arguments, her représentations, ail failed in 
their effect on Sir Edmund's impetuous character. 
His answer was short and decided ; the puiport of it^ 
that he shonld see her in Edinburgh the moment she 
arrived there. 

*^ My fate then is fized,'' thought Alicia^ as she read 
this letter; "I must finish the sacrifice." 

The more severe had been the stmggle between 
love and victorious duty, the more firmlj was she 
determined to maintaîn this dear-bought vîctory. 

Alicia's resolution of marrying was now decided, 
and the opportunity was not wantîng. She had 
become acquaînted, during the preceding winter in 
Edinburgh, with Major Douglas, eldest son of Mr. 
Douglas of Glenfem. He had then paid her the most 
marked attention; and, since her retum to the country, 
had been a fréquent visiter at Sir Duncan's. At length: 
he avowed his partiality, which was heard by Sir 
Duncan with pleasure, by Alicia with dread and sub- 
mission. Yet she f elt less répugnance towards hîm ' 
than to any other of her suitors. He was pleasing in 
his person ; quiet and simple in his manners ; and his 
character stood high for integrity, good temper, and 
plain sensé. The sequel requires little further détail 
Alicia Malcolm became the wife of Archibald Douglas. 

An etemal constancy is a thing so rare to be met 
with, that persons who désire that sort of réputation 
strive to obtain it by nourishing the ideas that recall 
the passion, even though guilt and sorrow should go 
hand in hand with it But Alicia, far from piqoing . 



MABBIAGE. 173 

herself in the lovelom pensiveness she might bave 
assamed, had she yielded to the impulse of her feel- 
ings, diligently strove not only to make up her mind 
to the lot which had devolved to her, but to bring it 
to such a frame of cheerfulness as should enable her 
to contribute to her husband's happiness. 

When the soûl is no longer buffeted by the storms 
of hope or fear, when ail is fixed unchangeably for 
life, Borrow for the past will never long prey on a 
pious and weU-regulated mind. If AHcia lost the 
buoyant spirit of youth, the bright and quick play of 
^<^7) y^t a placid contentment crowned her days; 
and at the end of two years she wonld hâve been 
astonished had any one marked her as an object of 
compassion. 

She scarcely ever heard from Lady Audley ; and 
in the f ew letters her aunt had f ayoured her with, she 
gave favourable, though vague accounts of her son. 
AHcia did not court a more unreserved communication, 
and had long since taught herself to hope that he was 
now happy. Soon after their marriage Major Douglas 
quitted the army, upon succeeding to a small estate on 
the banks of Lochmarlie by the death of an uncle ; 
and there, in the çalm seclusion of domestic life, Mrs. 
Douglas found that peace which might hâve been 
denied her amid gayer scenea 



CHAPTEE XIV. 

"And joyouB was the scène in early sommer. 



Madoo. 



On Henry's retum from his solîtary ramble Mrs. 
Douglas leamt from hîm the cause of the misunder- 
standing that had taken place ; and judging that^ in 
the présent state of affairs, a temporary séparation 
might be of use to both parties, as they were now 
about to return home she proposed to her husband 
to invite his brother and Lady Juliana to follow and 
spend a few weeks with them at Lochmarlie Cottage. 

The invitation was eagerly accepted ; for though 
Lady Juliana did not anticipate any positive pleasure 
from the change, still she thought that every place 
must be more agreeable than her présent abode, 
especially as she stipulated for the utter exclusion of 
the aunts from the party. To atone for this mortifi- 
cation Miss Becky was invited to fill the vacant seat 
in the carnage; and, accordingly, with a cargo of 
strong shoes, greatcoats, and a large work-bag well 
stuifed with white-seam, she took her place at the 
appointed hour. 

The day they had chosen for their expédition waa 
one that " sent a summer fceling to the heart" 



MABBIAGE. 175 

The air was soft and génial ; not a cloud stained 
the bright azuré of the heavens ; and the sun shone 
out in aU his splendour, ahedding life and beauty even 
OYer ail the desolate heath-clad hills of Glenfem. But^ 
after they had joumeyed a few miles, suddenly emerg- 
ing from the valley, a scène of matchless beauty burst 
at once upon the eya Bef ore them lay the dark-blue 
waters of Lochmarlie, reflecting, as in a mirror, every 
surrounding object, and bearing on its placid tran^ 
parent bosom a fleet of herring- beats, the drapery 
of whose black suspended nets contrasted with pic- 
turesque effect the white sails of the larger ressels, 
which were vainly spread to catch a breeza AU 
around, rocks, meadows, woods, and hills, mingled in 
wild and lovely irregularity. 

On a projecting point of land stood a little fishing 
village, its white cottages reflected in the glassy 
waters that almost surrounded it On the opposite 
side of the lake, or rather estuary, embosomed in 
wood, rose the lofty turrets of Lochmarlie Castle; 
while hère and there, perched on some mountain's 
brow, were to be seen the shepherd's lonely hut^ and 
ihe heath-covered summer shealing. 

Not a breath was stining, not a Sound was heard 
save the rushing of a waterfall, the tinkling of some 
silver rivulet, or the calm rippling of the tranquil 
làke; now and then, at intervals, the fisherman's 
Gaelic ditty chanted, as he lay stretched on the sand 
in some sunny nook ; or the shriU distant sound of 
childish glee. How delicious to the feeling heart to 



176 MABRIAGE. 

behold 80 fair a scène of imsophisticated Nature, and 
to listen to her voice alone, breathing the accents of 
innocence and joy ! 

But none of the party who now gazed on it had 
minds capable of being touched with the émotions it 
was calculated to inspire. 

Henry, indeed, was rapturous în his expressions 
of admiration ; but he concluded his panegyrics by 
wondering his brother did not keep a cutter, and 
resolying to pass a night on board one of the herring 
boats, that he might eat the fish in perfection. 

Lady Juliana thought it might be very pretly, i^ 
instead of those frightful rocks and shabby cottages, 
there could be villas, and gaidens, and lawns, and 
conservatorîes, and summer-houses, and statues. 

Miss Becky observed, if it was hers, she would 
eut down the woods, and level the hills, and hâve 
racea 

The road wound along the sides of the lake, some- 
tfanes overhung with banks of natural wood, which, 
though scarcely budding, grew so thick as to exclude 
the prospect; in other places surmounted by large 
masses of rock, f estooned with ivy, and embroidered 
by mosses of a thousand hues that glittered under the 
little mountaîn streamlets. Two miles farther on 
stood the simple mansion of Mr. Douglas. It was 
situated in a wild sequestered nook, f ormed by a little 
bay at the farther end of the lake. On three sides. it 
was surrounded by wooded hills that offered a com- 
plète shelter from every nipping blast To the south 



MARRUGE. 177 

the Iswn, sprinkled with trees and shrabs, sloped 
gradaally down to the water. 

At the door they were met by Mrs. Douglas, who 
welcomed them with the most affectionate cordiality, 
and conducted them into the house through a little 
circular hall, filled with flowering shrubs and f oreign 
plants. 

"How delightful !" exclaimed Lady Juliana, as sho 
stopped to inhale the rîch fragrance. " Moss roses I 
I do delight in them,'' twisting ofiT a rich cluster of 
flowers and buds in token of her affection; "and I 
quite doat upon héliotrope," gathering a handful of 
flowers as she spoka Then extending her hand to- 
wards a most luxuriant Cape jessamine — 

"I must really pétition you to spare this, my 
fayourîte child," said her sister-in-law, as she gently 
withheld her arm ; " and, to tell you the truth, dear 
Lady Juliana, you hâve already infringed the rules of 
my little conservatory, which admit only of the grati- 
fication of two sensés — seeing and smelling.'' 

" What I don't you like your flowers to be gatheredl" 
exclaimed Lady Juliana in a tone of surprise and dis- 
appointment ; " I don't know any other use they're of. 
What quantités I used to hâve from Papa's hothouses ! " 

Mrs. Douglas made no reply; but conducted her 
to the drawing-room, where her chagrin was dispelled 
by the appearance of comfort and even élégance that 
it bora " Now, this is really what I like," cried she, 
throwing herself on one of the couches ; " a large fire,' 
open Windows, quantities of roses, comfortable OttC' 

VOL L N H. 



178 MARRIAGK 

mans, and pîctures ; only what a pity yon haven't a 
larger mirror." 

Mrs. Douglas now rang for refroshments, and 
apologîsed for the absence of her husbaud, who, she 
said, was so much interested in his ploughing that 
he seldom made bis appearance till sent for. 

Henry tben proposed that they should ail go out 
and surprise his brother ; and though walking in the 
country f ormed no part of Lady Juliana's amusements, 
yet, as Mrs. Douglas assured her the walks were 
perf ectly dry, and her husband was so pressing, she 
Gonsented. The way lay through a shrubbery, by the 
side of a brawling brook, whose banks retained ail 
the wildness of unadorned nature. Moss and ivy 
and fem clothed the ground; and under the banks 
the young primroses and violets began to raise their 
heads; while the red wintry berry still hungthick 
on the hollies. 

" This is really very pkasant," saîd Henry, stopping 
to contemplate a yiew of the lake through the branches 
of a weeping birch ; " the sound of the stream, and 
the singing of the birds, and ail those wild flowers 
make it appear as if it was summer in this spot ; and 
only look, Julia, how pretty that wherry looks lying 
at anchor." Then whispering to her, "What would 
you think of such a désert as this, with the man of 
your heart 1 " 

Lady Juliana made no reply but by complaining 
of the beat of the sun, the hardness of the gravel, and 
the damp from the water. 



MARRIAGE. 179 

Henry, who now began to look upon the condition 
of a Highland farmer with more complacency than 
f ormerly, was confirmed in his f avourable sentiments 
at sight of his brother, f oUowing the primitive occupa- 
tion of the plough, his fine face glowing with health, 
and hghted up with good humour and happiness. 
He hastily advanced towards the party, and shaking 
his broliher and sister-in-law most warmly by the 
hand, expressed, with ail the warmth of a good heart, 
the pleasure he had in receiving them at his house. 
Then observing Lady Juliana's languid air, and im- 
putîng to fatigue of body what, in f act^ was the con- 
séquence of mental vacuity, he proposed retuming 
home by a shorter road than that by which they had 
come. Henry was again in raptures at the new 
beauties this walk presented, and at the high order 
and neatness in which the grounds were kept. 

"This must be a very expensive place of yours, 
though,** said he, addressing his sister-in-law ; " there 
is so much garden and shrubbery, and suoh a number 
of rustic bridges, bowers, and so forth: it must re- 
quire half a dozen men to keep it in any order." 

" Such an establishment would very ill accord with 
our moderato means," replied she ; " we do not pré- 
tend to one regular gardener; and had our little 
embellishments been productive of much expense, or 
tending solely to my gratification, I should never hâve 
suggested them. When we first took possession of 
this spot it was a perfect wilderness, with a dirty 
f arm-house on it ; nothing but mud about the doors ; 



180 HARRUGE. 

nothing but wood and briers and brambles beyoud it ; 
and the village presented a still more melancholj scène 
of rank luxuriance, in its swarms of dirty idle girls 
and mischievoufi boys. I bave generally found that 
wherever an evil exists the remedy is not far oflf; 
and in this case it was strikingly obvious. It wa« 
only engaging thèse ill-directed children by triâing 
rewards to apply their lively énergies in improving 
instead of destroying die works of natui^e, a. hai 
formerly been their zealous practica In a short time 
the change on the moral as well as the vegetable part 
of création became very preceptible : the children 
grew industrious and peaceable; and instead of 
destroying trees, robbing nests, and worrying cats, 
the bigger boys, under Douglas's direction, con- 
structed thèse wooden bridges and seats, or eut out 
and gravelled the httle winding paths that we had 
previously marked out The task of keeping every- 
thing in order is now easy, as you.may believe, when 
I tell you the whole of our pleasure-grounds, as you 
are pleased to term them, reçoive no other attention 
than what is bestowed by children under twelve 
years of âge. And now, having, I hope, acquitted 
myseU of the charge of extravagance, I ought to beg 
Lady Juliana's pardon for this long, and, I f ear, tire- 
some détail" 

Having now reached the house, Mrs. Douglas. con- 
ducted her guest to the apartment prepared for her, 
while the brothers pursued their walk. 

As long as novelty retained its power, and the 



MARRIAGE. 181 

eomparison between Glenfem and Lochmarlie was 
fresh in remembrance, Lady Juliana, charmed vriûi 
everything, was in high good-humour. 

But as the horrors of tbe one were forgotten, and 
the comforts of the other became f amiliar, the démon 
of ennui again took possession of her vacant mind, 
and she relapsed into ail her capricions humours and 
childish impertînence& The harpsichord, which, on 
her first arrivai, she had pronounced to be excellent, 
was now declared quite shocking; so much out of 
tune that there was no possibility of playing upon it 
The small collection of well-chosen novels she soon 
exhausted, and then they became "the stupidest 
books she had ever read ;" the smell of the héliotrope 
now gave her the headache; the sight of the lake 
made her sea-sick. 

Mrs. Douglas heard ail thèse civilities in silence, 
and much more "in sorrow than in anger." In the 
wayward inclinations, variable temper, and wretched 
inanity of this poor victim of indulgence, she beheld 
the sad fruits of a f ashionable éducation ; and thought 
with humility that, under similar circumstances, such 
might hâve been her own character. 

" Oh, what an awful responsibility do those parents 
incur," she would mentally exclaim, "who thus ne- 
glect or corrupt the noble deposit of an immortal soûl ! 
Ând who, alas ! can tell where the mischief may end 1 
This unf ortunate will herself become a mother ; yet 
wholly ignorant of the duties, incapable of the self- 
déniai of that sacred office, she will bring into the 



182 MABBIAGE. 

world créatures to whom she can only transmît her 
errors and her weaknesses \" 

Thèse reflections at times deeply affected the 
gênerons heart and truly Christian spirit of Mrs. 
Douglas; and she sought^ by every means in her 
power, to restrain those faults which she knew it 
would be vain to attempt eradicating. 

To diversify the routine of days which grew more 
and more tedious to Lady Juliana, the weather being 
remarkably fine, many Uttle excui«ons were made 
to the nearest country seats ; which, though they 
did not afford her any actual pleasure, answered the 
purpose of consuming a considérable portion of her 
tima 

Several weeks p^sed away, during which Httle 
inclination was shown on the part of the guests to 
quit their présent résidence, when Mr. and Mrs. 
Douglas were summoned to attend the sick-bed of 
Sir Duncan Malcolm ; and though they pressed their 
guests to remain during their absence, yet Henry felt 
that it would be highly offensive to his f ather were 
they to do so, and theref ore resolved immediately to 
retum to Glenf em. 



CHAPTER XV. 

l 
I 

" Thej steeked doors, they steeked yetts, 
Close to the cheek and chin ; 
They steeked them a' but a little wicket^ 
And Lammikin crap in. 

" Now qnhere's the lady of this castle î" 

OldBàaad. 

Thb party.were received with the loudest acclamar 
tîons of joy by the good old ladies ; and even the 
Laird seemed to bave f orgotten that his son had refased 
to breed black cattle, and that his daughter-in-law was 
above the management of her household 

The usual salutations were scarcely over when Miss 
Grizzy, flying to her little writing-box, pulled out a 
letter, and, with an air of importance, having enjoined 
silence, she read as f oUows : — 

" LocHMARLiE Castlb, MarcH 27, 17 — . 
" Dear Child — Sir Sampson's stomach has been as 
bad as it could well be, but not so bad as your roads. 
He was shook to a jelly. My petticoat will never do. 
Mrs. M*Hall has had a girL I wonder what makes , 
people hâve girls ; they never corne to good. Boys 
may go to the mischief, and be good for something — 
if girls go, they're good for nothing I know of. I 



184 ICÀBBIÂGB. 

never saw such roads. I suppose Glenf em means to 
bury you ail in the highway ; there are holes enough 
to make you graves, and stones big enough for coffins. 
You must ail corne and spend Tuesday hère — ^not ail, 
but some of you — ^you, dear child, and your brother, 
and a sister, and your pretty nièce, and handsome 
nephew — I love handsome people. Miss M'Kraken 
has bounced away with her f ather's f ootman — I hope 
he will clean his knives on her. Corne early, and 
corne dressed, to your loving friend, 

*< ISABELLA MaOLAUGHLAN.'' 

The letter ended, a volley of applause ensued, whîch 
at length gave place to consultation. " Of course we 
ail go — at least as many as the carriage will hold : 
we hâve no engagements, and there can be no objec- 
tions." 

Lady Juliana had already frowned a contemptuous 
refusai, but in due time it was changed to a suUen 
assent, at the pressing entreaties of her husband, to 
whom any place was now préférable to hom& In 
truth, the mention of a party had more weight with 
her than either her husband's wishes or her aunts' 
remonstrances ; and they had assured her that she 
should meet with a large assemblage of the very first 
cj)mpany at Lochmarlie Castle. 

The day appointed for the important visit airived ; 
and it was arranged that two of the elder ladies and 
one of the young ones should accompany Ladf J^* 
ana in her barouche, which Henry was to driva 



MARRIÀGtf. 186 

At peep of dawn the ladies were astir, and at eight 
o'clock breakfast was hurried over that they might 
begin the jureparations necessary for appearing with 
dignity at the shiine of this their patron saint At 
eleven they reappeared in ail the majesty of sweeping 
silk trains and well-powdered toupee& In outward 
show Miss Becky was not less elaborate ; the united 
strength and skill of her three aunts and four sîsters 
liad evidently been ezerted in forcing her hair into 
every position but that for which nature had intended 
it ; curls stood on end around her f orehead, and tresses 
were dragged up from the roots, and formet) into i^ 
club on the crown ; her arms had been strapped back 
till her elbows met, by means of a pink rîbbon of no 
ordinary strength or doubtful hua* 

Three hours were past in ail the anguish of full- 
dressed impatience ; an anguish in which eveiy f emàle 
breast must be ready to sympathisa But Lady 
Juliana sympathised in no one's distresses but her 
own, and the différence of waiting in high dress or in 
déshabille was a distinction to her inconceiYable. But 
those to whom to be dressed is an event will readily 
enter into the feelings of the ladies in question as 
they sat, walked, wondered, exclaimed, opened Win- 
dows, wrung their hands, adjusted their dress, etc. 
eta, during the three tedious hours they were doomed 
to wait the appearance of their nieca 

Two o'clock came, and with it Lady Juliana, as if 
puiposely to testify her contempt, in a loose moming 
drops and mob cap. The sisters looked blank with 



186 MARBIÀGE. 

dîsappointment ; for havîng made themselves mîs- 
tresses of the contents of hex ladyship*s wardrobe, 
they had settled amongst themselves that the most 
suitable dress for the occasion would be black velvet, 
and accordingly many hints had been given the pre- 
ceding evening on the virtues of black velvet gowns. 
They were warm, and not too warm; they were 
dressy, and not too dressy ; Lady Maclaughlan was a 
great admirer of black velvet gowns; she had one 
herseK with long sleeves, and that buttoned behind ; 
black velvet gowns were very much wore ; they knew 
several ladies who had them ; and they were certain 
there would be nothing else wore amongst the matrons 
at Lady Maclaughlan^ etc. etc. 

Time was, however, too precious to be given either 
to remonstrance or lamentation. Miss Jacky could 
only give an angry look, and Miss Grizzy a sorrowf ul 
one, as they hurried away to the carnage, uttering 
exclamations of despaîr at the lateness of the hour, 
and the impossibility that anybody could hâve time 
to dress after getting to Lochmarlie Castle. 

The conséquence of the delay was that it was dark 
by the time they reached the place of destination. 
The carriage drove up to the grand entrance; but 
neither lights nor servants greeted their arrivai; 
and no answer was retumed to the ringing of the 
bell. 

"This is most alarming, I déclare!" cried Miss 
Grizzy. 

"It is quite incomprdiensible!" observed Miss 



MABRUGK 187 

Jacky. "We had beat get out and try the back 
door/' 

The party alighted, and another attack beîng made 
upon the rear, it met with better success ; for a little 
boy now presented himself at a narrow opening of 
the door, and in a strong Highland accent demanded 
" wha ta wàr seekin' ? " 

"Lady Maclaughlan, to be sure, Colin," was the 
reply. 

" Weel, weel," still refusîng admittance ; " but te 
leddie's no to be spoken wi' to-night" 

" Not to be spoken with !" exclaimed Miss Grizzy, 
almost sinking to the ground with appréhension. 
"Good gracions! — I hope! — I déclare! — Sir Samp- 
gon ! " 

"Oo ay, hur may see LochmarUe hurseL" Then 
opening the door, he led the way, and ushered them 
into t^e présence of Sir Sampsoî who was reclining 
in an easy chair, arrayed in a robe de chambre and night- 
cap. The opening of the door seemed to hâve broken 
his slumber ; for, gazing around with a look of stupé- 
faction, he demanded in a sleepy peevish tone, "Who 
was there V* 

"Bless me, Sir Sampson !" exclaimed both spinsters 
at once, darting forward and seizing a hand; "bless 
me, don't you know usî And hère is our nièce, 
Lady Juliana." 

"My Lady Juliana Douglas!" cried he, with a 
shriek of horror, sinking again upon his cushions. " I 
am betrayed — I — Where is my Lady Maclaughlan î — • 



1 



188 MABBUGE. 

Where is Philistino ? — Where îs — the devil ! This ia 
not to be borne! My Lady Juliana Douglas, the 
Earl of Courtland's daughter, to be introduced to 
Locbmarlie Castle in so vile a manner, and myself 
surprised in so indecorous a situation!" And, bis 
lips quivering witb passion, be rang tbe belL 

Tbe summons was answered by tbe same attendant 
tbat bad acted as gentleman usber. 

"Wbere are ail my people?" demanded bis in- 
censed master. 

" Hurs aw awa tull ta Sandy More'a" 

" Wbere is my Lady 1 " 

"Hursi'tateacbtap."! 

"Wbere isMurdocbî" 

" Hur's belpin' ta leddie i' ta teacb tap.** 

" Ob, well ail go upstairs, and see wbat Lady Mac- 
laugblan and Pbilistine are about in tbe laboratory," 
said Miss Grizzy. "So pray, just go on witb your 
nap, Sir Sampson ; we sball find tbe way — don't stir ;*' 
and taJdng Lady Juliana by tbe band, away tripped 
tbe spinsters in searcb of tbeir friend. "I cannot 
conceive tbe meaning of ail tbis," wbispered Miss 
Grizzy to ber sister as tbey went along, " Sometbing 
must be wrong ; but I said notbing to dear Sir Samp- 
son, bis nerres are so easily agitated. But wbat can 
be tbe meaning of ail tbisi I déclare it's quite a 
mystery." 

Af ter ascending several long dark stairs, and f ollow- 
ing divers windings and tumings, tbe party at length 

^ House top. 



MARRIAGE. 189 

reached the door of the sandum sandorum, and having 
gently tapped, the voice of the priestess was heard in 
no very encouraging accents, demanding " Who was 
therer' 

" It's only us," replied her trenibling friend. 

" Only us 1 humph ! I wonder what fool is called 
only us/ Open the door, Philistine, and see what 
ordy us wants." 

The door was opened and the party entered. The 
day was closing in, but by the faint twilight that 
mingled with the gleams from a smoky smouldering 
fire, Lady Maclaughlan was dimly discemible, as she 
stood upon the hearth, watching the contents of an 
enormous kettle that emitted both steam and odour. 
She regarded the invaders with her usual marble 
aspect, and without moving either joint or muscle as 
they drew near. 

" I déclare — I don't think you know us, Lady Mac- 
laughlan," said Miss Grizzy in a tone of aflFected 
vivacity, with which she strove to conceal her agi- 
tation^ 

**Know you!" repeated her friend — "humph! 
Who you are, I know very well ; but what brings you 
hère, I do noi know. Do you know yourselves 1 " 

"I déclare — I can't conçoive " began Miss 

Grizzy ; but her trépidation arrested her speech, and 
her sister therefore proceeded — 

" Your ladyship's déclaration is no less astonishing 
than incomprehensibla We hâve waited upon you 
by your own express invitation on the day appointed 



1 



190 MAREIAGB. 

^yy yourself ; and we hâve been.received în a manner, 
I must say, we did not expect, considering this is the 
first visit of our nièce Lady Julîana Douglas." 

" l'U tell you what, girls," replied their friend, as 
she still stood with her back to the fire, and her hands 
behind her ; " l'U tell you what, — you are not your- 
selves — you are ail lost — quite mad — that's ail — 
humph !" 

" If that's the case, we cannot be fit company for 
your ladyship," retorted Miss Jacky warmly; "and 
therefore the best thing we can do is to retum the 
way we came. Corne, Lady Juliana — come, sister." 

" I déclare, Jacky, the impetuosity of your temper 

is — I really cannot stand it " and the gentle 

Grizzy gave way to a flood of tears. 

"You used to be rational, intelligent créatures," 
resumed her ladyship; "but what bas come over 
you, I don't know. You come tumbling in hère at the 
middle of the night — and at the top of the house — 
nobody knows how — when I never was thinking of 
you; and because I don't tell a parcel of lies, and 
prétend I expected you, you are for flying off again — 
humph! Is this the behaviour of women in their 
sensés 1 But since you are hère, you may as well sit 
down and say what brought you. Get down, Gil 
Blas — go along, Tom Jones," addressing two huge 
cats, who occupied a three-cornered leather chair by 
the fireside, and who relinquished it with much 
reluctance. 

"How do you do, pretty créature?" kissing Lady 



MAEMA6E. 191 

Julîana, as she s6ated her in this cat's cradie. " Now, 
girls, sit down, and tell what brouglit you here to-day 
— ^humph !" 

"Gan your Ladyshîp ask such a question, after 
baving formally invited usf demanded the wrathful 
Jacky. 

" 1*11 tell you what, girls ; you were just as mach 
invited by me to dine bere to-day as you were ap- 
pointed to sup witb the Grand Seignior — ^bumpb !" 

" Wbat day of tbe week does your Ladysbip call 
tbisr 

"I caJl it Tuesday; but I suppose the Glenfem 
calendar calls it Thursday : Thursday was tbe day I 
invited you to corne." 

** Fm sure — l'm tbankf ul weVe got to the bottom 
of it at last^" cried Miss Grizzy ; " I read it, because 
Tm sure you wrote it, Tuesday." 

"How could you be such a fool, my love, as to 
read it any such thing ? Even if it had been written 
Tuesday, you might bave had the sensé to know it 
meant Thursday. When did you know me invite 
anybody for a Tuesday 1" 

" I déclare it's very true ; I certainly ought to bave 
known better. I am quite confounded at my own 
stupidity ; for, as you observe, even though you had 
said Tuesday, I might bave known that you must 
bave meant Thursday." 

"Well, well, no more about it Sînce you are 
here you must stay bere, and you must bave some- 
thing to eat, I suppose. Sir Sampson and I bave 



192 HÀBBUGl. 

dined two iiours ago ; but 70U shall haye yoar dinner 
for ail that. I must shut shop for thîs ds^y, it seems, 
and leave my resuscîtating tîncture ail in the dead- 
thraw — Methusalem pills qoîte in their inf ancy. But 
there's no help for it Since you are hère you must 
stay hère, and you must be f ed and lodged ; so get 
along, girls, get along. Hère, Gil Blas — come, Tom 
Jones." And, preceded by her cats, and followed by 
her guestsy she led the way to the parlour. 






OHAPTEE XVL 

M Point de nûlien : l'hymen et ses liens 
Sont les plus grands on des maox on des biens.*' 

L^Enfant Prodigua, 

On retuming to the parlour they found Sir Sampaon 
had, by means of the indefatigable Philistîne, been 
transported into a suit of regîmentals and well-pow- 
dered peruke, which had in some measure restoied 
him to his usual complacency. Henry, who had gone 
in quest of some porson to take charge of the horses, 
now entered; and shortly after a tiay of provisions 
was brought, which the half-famished party eagerly 
attacked, regardless of their hostess's admonitions to 
eat sparingly, as nothkg was so dangerous as eating 
heartily when people were hungiy. 

The repast being at length concluded, Lady Mac- 
laughlan led her guests into the salooa They passed 
throngh an antechamber, which seemed, by the faînt 
light of the lamp, to contaîn nothing but piles on piles 
of china, and entered the room of stata 

The eye at first wandered in uncertaîn obscurity; 

and the guests cautiously proceeded over a bare oaken 

floor, whose dark polished surface seemed to emulate 

a mirror, through an apartment of formidable estent 

VOL. L M. 



194 MABBIAGE. 

The walls were hiing with rich but grotesque tapestry. 
The ceiUng, by its height and massy carving, bespoke 
the âge of the apartment ; but the beauty of the desigu 
was lost in the gloom. 

A Turkey carpet was placed in the middle of the 
floor ; and on the middle of the carpet stood the card 
table, at which two footmen, hastily summoned from 
the revels at Sandy More's, were placing chairs *and 
cards ; seemingly eager to display themselves, as if to 
prove that they were always at their posts. 

Gards were a matter of course with Sir Sampson 
and his lady ; but as whist was the only game they 
ever played, a difficulty arose as to the means of 
providing amusement for the younger part of the 
Company. 

" I hâve plenty rf books for you, my loves," saîd 
Lady Maclaughlan ; and, taking one of the candies, 
she made a joumey to the other end of the room, and 
entered a small turret, from which her voice was heard 
issuing most audibly, '< Ail the books that should ever 
hâve béen published are hère. Bead thèse, and you 
need read no more : ail the world's in thèse books — 
humph! Here's the Bible, great and small, with 
apocrypha and concordance ! Here's Floyer's Medicina 
Gerocomica, or the Galenic Art of Preserving Old 
Men's Health ; — Love's Art of Surveying and Measur- 
ing Land ; — Transactions of the Highland Society ; — 
Glass's Cookery ; — FlaveFs Fountain of Life Opened ; 
— ^Fencing Familiarised ; — Observations on the Use of 
Bath Waters; — Cure for Soûl Sores; — De Blondt's 



MAKBIAGE. 195 

Mîlitary Memoîrs ; — MacGhie's Book-keepîng ; — Mead 
on Pestilence ; — ^Âstenthology, or the Art of Pteserv- 
ing Feeble life !" 

As she enumerated the contents of her library, she 
paused at the end of each title, in hopes of hearîng 
the book called for; but she was allowed to proceed 
without interraption to the end of her catalogua 

" Whjr, what would you hâve, children V* cried she 
in one of her stemest accents. '' I don't know ! Do 
yon know yourselves f Hère are two novels, the only 
ones worth any Ohristian's reading." 

Henry gladly accepted the first volumes of Oil Blas 
and Claiissa Harlowe ; and, giving the latter to Lady 
Juliana, began the other himsell Miss Becky was 
settled with her hands across ; and, the whist party 
bcfing arranged, a solenm silence ensued. 

Lady Juliana turned over a f ew pages of her own 
book, then begged Henry would exchange with her ; 
but both were in so différent a style from the French 
and (jerman school she had been accustomed to, that 
they were soon relinquished in disappointment and 
dic^ust 

On the table, which had been placed by the fire 
for her accommodation, lay an English newspaper; 
and to that she had recourse, as a last effort at amuse- 
ment But^ alas ! even the dulness of Clarissa Har- 
lowe was delight compared to the anguish with which 
this fatal paper was fraught, in the shape of the fol- 
lowing paragraph, which presented itself to the ^on^ 
f ortunate fair one's eye : — 



196 HÂBRIAGE. 

'* Yesterday was married, by spécial license, at the 

house of Mrs. D , his Grâce the Duke of L , 

to the beautiful and accomplîshed Miss D , His 

Royal Highness the Duke of was gracîous enough 

to act as f ather to the bride upon this occasion, and 
was présent in person, as were their Koyal Highnesse^ 

the Dukes of ^ and of , The bride looked 

most bewitchingly lovely, in a simple robe of the finest 
Mechlin lace, with a superb. veil of the same costly 
material, which hung down to her f eet She wore a 
set of pearls estimated at thirty thousand pounds, 
whose chaste élégance corresponded with the rest of 
the dress. Immediately after the ceremony they par- 
took of a sumptuous collation, and the happy pair set 
off in a chariot and four, attended by six outrîders, and 
two coaches and four. 

^'Âfter spending the hone3rmoon at his Grrace's 
unique villa on the Thames, their Grâces wiU reçoive 
Company at their splendid mansion in Portman Square. 
The wedding paraphemaKa is said to hâve cost ten 
thousand pounds; and her Grace's jewel-box is 
estimated at little less than half a million." 

Wretched as Lady Juliana had long f elt herself to 
be, her former state of mind was positive happiness 
compared to what she now endured. Envy, regret, 
self-reproach, and resentment, ail struggled in the 
breast of the self-devoted beauty, while the paper 
dropped from her hand, and she cast a f earf ul glance 
around, as if to ascertaîn the reality of her f ata The 
dreadf ul certainty smote her with a sensé of wretched- 



MAKRIAGE. 197 

ness too acute to be suppressed ; and, darting a look 
of horror at her unconscious husband, she threw 
herself back in lier chair, while the scalding tears of 
envy, anger, and repentance fell from her eyes. 

Accustomed as Henry now was to thèse ebullitions 
of fedmg from his beauteous partner, he was not yet 
80 indiffèrent as to behold them unmoyed; and he 
sought to soothe her by the kindest expressions and 
most tender epithet& Thèse indeed had long since 
ceased to charm away the lady's ill-humour, but they 
sometimes succeeded in moUifying it But now their 
(mly effect seemed to be increasing the irritation, as 
she tumed from ail her husband's inquiries, and 
impatienfly withdrew her hands from his. 

Âstonished at a conduct so incompréhensible» 
Douglas eamestly besought an ezplanation. 

"Therel" cried she, at length, pushing the paper 
towards him, '' see there what I might hâve been but 
for you; and then compare it with what you hâve 
made me 1" 

Confounded by this reproach, Henry eagerly 
snatched up the paper, and his eye instantly fell on 
the fatal paragraph — the poisoned dart that struck 
the death-blow to ail that now remained to him of 
happiness — the fond idea that, even amidst childish 
folly and capricious estrangement, still in the main 
he was belovedl With a quivering lip, and cheek 
blanched with mortification and indignant contempt^ 
he laid down the paper ; and without casting a look 
upon, or uttering a word to, his once adored <md adormg 



198 MABRIAGE. 

Jîdiana, quîtted the apartment in ail that bîttemess 
of spirit which a generous nature must feel when it 
first discovers the fallacy of a cherîshed affection. 
Henry had indeed ceased to regard his wife with 
the ardour of romantic passion; nor had the solid 
feelings of affectionate esteem supplied its place ; but 
he loved her still, because he believed himself the 
engrossing object of her tendemess; and in that 
blest delusion he had hitherto found palliatives for 
her foUy and consolation for ail his own distresse& 

Tô indifférence he might for a time hâve remained 
insensible ; because, though his feelings were strong, 
his perceptions were not acute. But 'the veil of illu- 
sion "was now rudely withdrawn. He beheld himself 
detested where he imagined himself adored ; and the 
anguish of disappointed affection was heightened by 
the stings of wounded pride and deluded self-lova 



OHAPTEE XVn 

** What's done^ caiinot be imdone ; to bed, to bed, to bed !" 

ExU Lady Maebdk. 

The distance at which the whist party had placed 
thernselves, and the deep interest in which their 
sensés were involved while the fate of the odd trick 
was pending, had rendered them insensible to the 
scène' that was acting at the other extremity of the 
apartment The task of administering succour to the 
afflicted f air one therefore devolyed upon Miss Becky, 
whose sympathetic powers never had been called 
into action bef ore. Slowly approaching the wretched 
Lady Juliana as she lay back in her chair, the tears 
coursîng each other down her cheeks, she tendered 
her a smelling-botUe, to which her own nose, and the 
noses of her sisters, were wont to be applied when- 
ever, as they choicely expressed it, they wanted a 
"fine smelL" But upon this trying occasion she 
went still farther. She unscrewed the stopper, un- 
folded a cotton handkerchief, upon which she poured 
a few drops of lavender water, and offered it to her 
ladyship, deeming that the most élégant and efficieut 
manner in which she could affbrd relief. But the 



200 BiABRIAGB. 

well-meant offering was sîlently waved off; and poor 
Miss Becky, having . done ail that the light of reason 
suggested to her, retreated to her seat^ wondering 
what it was her fine sister-în-law would be at 

Bj the tîme the rabber was ended her ladyship's 
fears of Lady Maclaughlan had enabled her to con- 
qner her f eelings so far that they had now sunk into 
a state of sullen déjection, which the good aunts 
eagerly interpreted into the fatigue of the joumey, 
Miss Grizzy declaring that although the drive was 
most delightful — nobody could deny that — and they 
ail enjoyed it excessively, as indeed everybody must 
who had eyes in their head ; yet she must own, at the 
same time, that she really f elt as if ail her bones were 
brok& 

A gênerai rising therefore took place at an early 
hour, and Lady Juliana, attended by ail the females 
of the party, was ushered into the chamber of state, 
which was fitted up in a style acknowledged to be 
truly magnificent, by ail who had ever enjoyed the 
honour of being pennitted to gaze on its white velvet 
bedcurtains, surmounted by the family arms, and 
gracefully tucked up by hands sinister-couped at the 
wrists, etc. But lest my fashionable readers should 
be of a diffèrent opinion, I shall refrain from giving 
an inventory of the varions articles with which this 
favoured chamber was fumished. Misses Grizzy and 
Jacky occupied the green room which had been fitted 
up at Sir Sampson's birth. The curtains hung at a 
respectful distance from the ground; the chimney- 



UÂBBUGB. 201 

pièce was far beyond the reach eyen of the xnajestic 
Jacky's arm; and the painted tiffany toilet was 
covered with a shoal of litde tortoise-shell boxes of 
aU shapes and sizes. A grim visage, scowling from 
under a Highland bonnet, graced by a single black 
f eather, hung on high. Miss Grizzy placed herself 
before it, and, holding up the candie, contemplated 
it for about the nine hundredth time, with an awe 
bordering almost on adoration. 

^'Certainly Sir Eneas must hâve been a most 
wondeiful man — ^nobody can deny that; and there 
can be no question but he had the second-sîght to the 
greatest degree — indeed, I never heard it disputed; 
many of his prophecies, indeed, seem to hâve been 
qmte mcompr;hLble7 but tbTt îb so much the more 
extraordinary ; you know — for instance, the one with 
regard to our family," lowering her voice ; " for my 
part I déclare I never could comprehend it; and yet 
there must be something in it, too ; but how any 
branch from the Glenfem tree— of course, you know, 
that can only mean the family tree — should help to 
prop Lochmarlie's walls, is what I can't conceive. If 
Sir Sampson had a son, to be sure, some of the girls 
— ^for you know it can't be any of us ; at least I dé- 
clare for my own part — l'm sure even if anything — 
which I trust, in goodness, there is not the least chance 
of, should ever happen to dear Lady Maclaughlan, 
^ and Sir Sampson should take it into his head — ^which, 
of course, is a thing not to be thought about — and 
indeed Fm quite convinced it would be very much 



202 MiLBRIAGE. 

out 6{ respect to dear Lady Maclanghlaii, as well as 
f rîendsliîp for us, if such a thing was ever to corne 
into hîs head'^ 

Hère the tender Giizzy got so involved in her own 
ideas as to the possîbility of Lady Maclaughlan's death, 
and the propriety of Sir Sampson's proposais, together 
with the fulfilling of Sir Eneas the seer's prophecy, 
that there is no saying how far she strayed in her self- 
created labyrinthe Such as choose to f ollow her may. 
For our part, we prefer accompanying the youthful 
Becky to her chamber, whither she was also attended 
by the lady of the mansioa Becky's destiny for the 
night lay at the top of one of those little straggling 
wooden stairs common in old houses, which creaked 
in aU directions. The bed wbs placed in a recess dark 
as Erebus, and betwixt the bed and the wall was a 
depth profound, which Becky's eye dared not attempt 
to penetrate. 

" You will find everything right hère, chîld," said 
Lady Maclaughlan ; '^ and if any thing should be wrong 
you must think it right. I never suffer anything to 
be wrong hère — ^humph !" Becky, emboldened by 
despair, cast a look towards the recess ; and in a f aint 
voice ventured to inquire, "Is there no fear that 
Tom Jones or Gil Blas may be in that place behind 
the bed ? " 

" And if they should," answered her hostess in her 
most appalling tone, " what is that to you ? Are you 
a mouse, that you are afraid they will eat you ? Yes, 
I suppose you ara You are perhaps the princess in 



MARKIAGE. 20 



o 



the fairy taie, who was a woman by day and a mouse 
by night I believe you are bewitched ! So I wish 
your mouseship a good night" And she descended 
the creaking staîr, sînging, 



** Mrs. Mouse, are you within f 



t» 



tîU even her stentorîan voice was lost in distance. 
Poor Becky's heart died with the retreating soiind& 
and only revived to beat time with the wonn in thé 
wood. Long and eerie was the night, as she gave 
herself up to ail the horrors of a superstitions mind — 
ghosts, gray, black, and white, fiitted around her 
couch ; cats, half human, held her throat ; the death- 
watch tîcked in her eara At length the light of 
moming shed its brightening influence on the dim 
opaque of her understanding ; and when ail things 
stood disclosed in light, she shut her eyes and oped 
her mouth in ail the blissfulness of security. The 
light of day was indeed f avourable for displaying to 
advantage the beauties of Lochmarlie Gastle, which 
owed more to nature than art It was beautifuUy 
situated on a smooth green bank, that rose somewhat 
abrupUy from the lake, and commanded a view, which, 
if not eztensive, was yet full of variety and grandeur. 
Ite vénérable turrets reared themselves above the 
trees which seemed coeval with them ; and the vast 
magnificence of its wide-spreading lawns and extensive 
forests seemed to appertain to some feudal prince's 
lofty domain. But in vain were creation's charms 
spread before Lady Juliana's eye& Woods and 



204 MABBIAGE. 

monntains and lakes and rivers were odious lihings ; 
and her heart panted for dosty squares and suffocating 
drawing-rooms. 

Somethîng waa saîd of departing by the sisters 
when the party met at breakf ast ; but this was im- 
mediately negatived in the most decided manner by 
their hostess. 

'* Since you hâve taken your own tîme to corne, my 
dears, you must take mine to go. Thursday was the 
day I invited you for, or at least wanted you for, so 
you must stay Thursday, and go away on Friday, and 
my blessîng go with you — ^humph I" 

The sisters, charmed with what they termed the 
hospitality and friendship of this invitation, delightedly 
agreed to remain; and as things were at least con- 
ducted in better style there than at Glenf em, uncom- 
f ortable as it was, Lady Juliana f ound herself somewhat 
nearer home there than at the family château. Lady 
Maclaughlan, who eould be commonly civil in her own 
house, was at some pains to amuse her guest by show* 
ing her collection of china and cabinet of gems, both 
of which were remarkably fina There was also a 
library, and a gallery, containing some good pictures, 
and, what Lady Juliana prized still more, a billiard- 
table. Thursday, the destîned day, at length airived, 
and a large party assembled to dinner. Lady Juliana, 
as she half reclined on a sofa, surveyed the company 
with à supercilious stare, and without deigning to take 
any part in the gênerai conversation that went on. 
It was enough that they spoke with a peouliar accent 



ICAABIAGE. 205 

— everything they said must be barbarous ; but she 
was pleased once more to eat off plate, and to find 
herself in rooms which, though grotesque and comf ort- 
less, yet wore an air of state, and whose vastness 
enabled her to keep aloof from those with whom she 
never willingly came in contact It was therefore 
with regret she saw the day of her departure arrive, 
and foimd herself once more an unwilling inmate of 
her only asylum; partîcularly as her situation now 
required comf orts and indulgences which it was there 
impossible to procure. 



OHAPTER XVm. 

" No mother*s care 

Shielded my infant innocence with prayer : 

• * • * • 

Mother, miscaird, farewell ! " 

Sayaob. 

The happy perîod, so long and anxiously anticîpated 
by the ladies of Glenfem, at length arrived, and Lady 
Jnliana presented to the house of Douglas — ^not^ alas ! 
the aidently^esired heir to its ancient conséquence, 
but twîn-daughters, who could only be regarded as 
addîtional burdens on its poverty. 

The old gentleman's disappointment was excessive ; 
and, as he paced up and down the parlour, with his 
hands in his pockets, he muttered, "Twa lasses! I 
ne'er heard tell o' the like o't I wonder whar their 
tochers are to corne frael" 

Miss Grizzy, in great perturbation, declared it 
certainly was a great pity'it had so happened, but 
thèse things couldn't be helped ; she was sure Lady 
Maclaughlan would be greatly surprised. 

Miss Jacky saw no cause for regret, and promised 
herself an endless source of deHght in forming the 
minds and training the ideas of her infant nièces. 



MAKRIAGE. 207 

Miss Nicky wondered how they were to be nursed. 
She was afraid Lady Juliana would not be able for 
botb, and wet-nurses had such stomachs ! 

Henry, meanwhile, whose love bad ail revived in 
anxiety for the safety, and anguish for the sufferîngs 
of bis youthful partner, bad bastened to ber apart- 
ment) and, kneeling by ber side, be pressed ber bands 
to bis lips witb feelings of tbe deepest émotion. 

"Dearer — a tbousand times dearer to me tban 
ever," wbispered be, as be fondly embraced ber, " and 
tbose sweet pledges of our love 1 " 

"Ab, don't mention tbem," înterrupted bis lady 
in a languid tona " How very provoldng ! I bâte 
girls so — and two of tbem — ob!" and sbe sigbed 
deeply. Her busband sigbed too; but from a 
différent cause. Tbe nurse now appeared, and 
approacbed witb ber belpless cbarges; and botb 
parents for tbe fîrst time looked on tbeir own 
offspring. 

"Wbat nice little créatures!" said tbe deligbted 
fatber, as, taking tbem in bis arms, be imprinted tbe 
first kiss on tbe innocent faces of bis daugbters, and 
tben beld tbem to tbeir motber ; wbo, turning from 
tbem witb disgust, exclaimed, " How can you kiss 
tbem, Harry î Tbey are so ugly, and tbey squall so ! 
Ob do, for beaven's sake, take tbem away ! And see, 
tbere is poor Psycbe quite wretcbed at being so long 
away from me. Pray, put ber on the bed." 

" Sbe will grow fond of ber babies by-and-by," said 
poor Henry to bimself, as be quitted tbe apartment^ 



208 MARBUGE. 

with feelings very différent from those with which he 
entered it 

At the pressing solicitations of her husband, the 
fashionable mother was prevailed upon to attempt 
nursing one of her poor starving infants; but the 
first trial proved also the last, as she declared nothing 
upon earth should ever induce her to perform so 
odious an office; and as Henry's entreaties and her 
aunts' remonstrances served alike to irritate and 
agitate her, the contest was, by the advice of her 
médical attendant^ completely given up. A wet-nurse 
was therefore procured ; bnt as she refused to under- 
take both children, and the old gentleman would not 
hear of having two such encumbrances in hia family, 
it was settled, to the unspeakable delight of the 
maiden sisters, that the youngest should be entrusted 
entirely to.their management, and brought up by 
hand. 

The conséquence was such as might hâve been 
foreseen. The child, who was naturàlly weak and 
délicate at its birth, daily lost a portion of its little 
strength, while its continued cries declared the inten- 
sity of its sufferings, though they produced no other 
effect on its unfeeling mother than her having it 
removed to a more distant apartment, as she could 
not endure to hear the cross little thing scream so for 
nothing. On the other hand, the more f avoured twin, 
who was from its birth a remarkably strong Uvely 
infant, and met with ail justice from its nurse, throve 
apace, and was pronounced by her to be the yery 



IIABBIAGS. 209 

picture of the bormie leddie^ Us mamma; and then» 
with ail rïie low cunning of her kind, she would launch 
f ortih into panegyrîcs of its beaaiy, and prophecies of 
the great dignitdes and hononrs that would one day 
be showered upon it; iintil, by her fawning and 
flattery, she succeeded in ezciting a degree of interest, 
which nature had not secured for it in the mother's 
breast 

Things were in this situation when, at the end of 
three weeks, Mr. and l^frs. Douglas arrived to offer 
their congratulations on the birth of the twins. Lady 
Juliana received her sîster-in-law in her apartment^ 
which she had not yet quitted, and replied to her 
congratulations only by querulous complaînts and 
childish murmurs. 

"I am sure you are very happy in not having 
children," continued she, as the cries of the little 
sufferer reached her ear j " I hope to goodness I shall 
never hâve any more. I wonder if anybody ever had 
twin daughters before, and I, too, who hâte girls so !" 

Mrs Douglas, disgusted with her unfeeling folly, 
knew not what to reply, and a pause ensued ; but a 
fresh burst of cries from the unfortunate baby again 
called f orth its mother's indignation. 

*'I wish to goodness that child was gagged," cried 
she, holding her hands to her ears. "It has done 
nothing but scream since the hour it was bom, and it 
makes me quite sick to hear it." 

''Poor little dear 1" said Mrs. Douglas compassion- 
ately, ''it appears to suffer a great deaL" 

TOLb I. P H 



.J 



210 MABBIAGK 

"Suffer!" repeated her sîster-în-law; "what can 
it suSérI I am sure it meets with a great deal more 
attention than any person in the house. Thèse three 
old women do nothing but feed it from moming to 
night^ with everything they can thînk of, and make 
such a fuss about it !" 

"I suspect^ my dear sister, you would be very 
sorry for yourself," said Mrs. Douglas, with a smile, 
« were you to endure the same treatment as your poor 
baby ; stuffed with improper food and loathsome drugs^ 
and bandied about from one person to another/' 

"You may say what you please," retorted Lady 
Juliana pettishly; "but I know it's nothing but ill 
temper: nurse says so too; and it is so ugly with 
constantly crying that I cannot bear to look at it;" 
and she tumed away her head as Miss Jacky entered 
with the little culprit in her arms, which she was 
vaînly endeavouring to talk into silence, while she 
dandled it in the most awkward maidenrlike manner 
imaginable. 

"Good heavens! what a fright!" exclaimed the 
tender parent» as her child was held up to her. 
« Why, it is much less than when it was bom, and its 
skin is as yellow as safiron, and it squints ! Only look 
what a différence," as the nurse advanced and osten- 
tatîously displayed her charge, who had just waked 
out of a long sleep ; its cheeks flushed with heat ; its 
skin completely fiUed up ; and its large eyes rolling 
under its already dark eyelashe& 

"The bonny wean's just her mamma's pîckter,* 



L 



MABBUGE. 211 

drawled out the nurse, "but the wee missj's unco 
like her auntîes." 

" Take her away/' cried Lady Juliana in a tone of 
despair ; " I wish I could send her out of my hearing 
altogether, for her noise will be the death of me." 

" Âlas 1 what would I gîve to hear the blessed sound 
of a liying child 1" exclaimed Mrs. Douglas, taking the 
infant in her arms. " And how great would be my 
happiness could I call the poor rejected one mine !" 

"Fm sure you are welcome to my share of the 
little plague," said her sister-in-law, with a laugh, " if 
you can prevafl upon Harry'to give up his." 

"I would give up a great deal could my poor child 
find a mother," replied her husband, who just then 
entered. 

"My dear brother !" cried Mrs. Douglas, her eyes 
beaming wiljh dehght, "do you then confirm Lady 
Juliana's kind promise ? Indeed I will be a mother 
to your dear baby, and love her as if she were my 
own ; and in a month — oh ! in much less time — you 
ahall see her as stout as her sister." 

Henry sighed, as he thought, "Why bas notmy 
poor babe such a mother of its ownl" Then thanking 
his sister-in-law for her gênerons intentions, he re- 
minded her that she must consult her husband, as 
few men liked to be troubled with any children but 
their own. 

"You are in the right," said Mrs. Douglas, blush- 
ing at the impetuosity of feeling which had mode her 
forget for an instant the déférence due to her hu» 



212 MAfiBIÀGB. 

band ; '* I shall instantiy ask his permission, and he is 
80 indulgent to ail my wishes that I bave little doubt 
of obtaining bis consent;" and, witb tbe cbild in ber 
anns, sbe bastened to ber busband, and made known 
ber request 

Mr. Douglas received tbe proposai witb considér- 
able coolness ; wondering wbat bis wif e could see in 
8ucb an ugly squalling tbing to plague berself about 
it If it bad been a boy, old enougb to speak and 
ron abouti tbere migbt be some amusement in it ; but 
be could not see tbe use of a squalling sickly infant — 
and a girl too ! 

Bis wif e sigbed deeply, and tbe tears stole down 
ber cbeeks as sbe looked on tbe wan visage and dosed 
eyes of tbe little sufferer. "GUxl belp tbee, poor 
babyl" said sbe moumfully; ^'you are rejected on 
ail bands, but your misery will soon be at an end;" 
and sbe was slowly leaving tbe room witb ber belp- 
less cbarge wben ber busband, toucbed at tbe sigbt 
of ber distress, tbougb tbe feeling tbat caused it be 
did not comprebend, called to ber, ** I am sure, Alida^ 
if you really wisb to take cbarge of tbe infant I bave 
no objections ; only I tbink you will find it a great 
plague, and tbe motber is sucb a fooL" 

" Worse tban a fooV' said Mrs. Douglas îndignantly, 
'* for sbe bâtes and abjures tbis ber poor unoffénding 
babe." 

"Does sbe sol" cried Mr. Douglas, every kindling 
feeling roused witbin bim at tbe idea of bis b]ood 
being hated and abjured; '^tben, bang me! if sbe 



IfÂBBIAGE. 313 

shall baye any child of Harry's to hâte as long as I 
hâve a house to shelter it and a sixpence to bestow 
upon it," taking the infant in his arms, and kindly 
kissingit. 

Mrs. Douglas smiled through her tears as she em 
braced her husband, and praised his goodness and 
generosity ; then, full of exultation and delight, she 
flew to impart the success of her mission to the parents 
of her protégée, 

Great was the surprise of the maiden nurses at 
finding they were to be beref t of their little charge. 

*'I déclare, I thînk the child is doing as well as 
possible/' said Miss Qrizzy. ''To be sure it does 
yammer constantly — ^that can't be denied ; and it is 
uncommonly small — ^nobody can dispute that At the 
same time, I am sure, I can't tell what makes it cry, 
for IVe giyen it two colic powders every day, and a 
tea^poonfal of Lady Maclaughlan's carminative every 
three hours." 

''Ând IVe donc nothing but make water-gruel and 
ehop rusks for it," quoth Miss Nicky, "and yet it is 
never satisfied ; I wonder what it would be at" 

''I know perfectly well what it would be at," said 
Miss Jacky, with an air of importance "Ail thia 
crying and screaming is for nothing else but a nurse ; 
but it ought not to be indulged. There is no end of 
indulging the désires, and 'tis amazing how cunning 
children are, and how soon they know how to take 
adyantage of people's weakness," glancing an eye of 
fire at Mrs. Douglas. " Were that my child, I would 



214 MABBIAGE. 

V 

feed her on bread and water before I would humour 
her f ancies. Â pretty lesson, indeed ! îf she's to bave 
her own way before she's a month old." 

Mr& Douglas knew that it was in vain to attempt 
arguing with her aunts. She therefore allowed them 
to wonder and declaîm over their sucking pots, colic 
powders, and other instruments of torture, while she 
sent to the wif e of one of her tenants who had lately 
laîn-în, and who wished for the situation of nurse, 
appointing her to be at Lochmarlie the following daj. 
Having made her arrangements, and collected the 
scanty portion of clothing Mrs. Nurse chose to allow, 
Mrs. Douglas repaired to her sister-in-law's apartment, 
with her little charge in her arma She found her 
still in bed, and surrounded with her favourites. 

" So you really are going to tonnent yourself with 
that little screech-owlî" said sha , "Well, I must 
say it's very good of you ; but I am afraid you will 
soon tire of her. Children are such plagues! Are 
they not, my darlingl" added she, kissîng her pug. 

"You will not say so when you bave seen my 
little girl a month hence," said Mrs. Douglas, trying 
to conceal her disgust for Henry's sake, who had just 
then entered the room. " She bas promised me never 
to cry any more ; so give her a kiss, and let us bô 
gone." 

The hîgh-bred mother slightly touched the cheek 
of her sleeping babe, extended her finger to her sister- 
în-law, and carelessly bidding them good-bye, retumed 
to her pillow aad her pug& 



MABBUGE. 215 

Henry accompanied Mrs. Douglas to the carriage, 
and before they parted he promised bis brother to 
ride oyer to Lochmarlie in a few days. He said 
notbing of bis cbild, but bis glistening eye and the 
warm pressure of bis band spoke volumes to tbe kind 
beart of bis brotber, wbo assured bim tbat Âlicia 
would be very good to bis little girl, and tbat be was 
sure sbe would get quite well wben sbe got a nurse. 
Tbe carnage drove off, and Henry, witb a beavy spirit^ 
retumed to tbe bouse to listen to bis f atber's lectures, 
bis aunts' ejaculations, and bis wife's murmura 



OHAPTER XIX. 

** We may boldly spend npon the hope of wliat 
Is to 00X06 in." 

Henry IV» 

The birth of twin daughters awakened the joimg 
f ather to a still stronger sensé of the total dependence 
and extrême helplessness of his condition. Yet how 
to remedy it he knew not To accept of his father's 
proposai waa ont of the question, and it was equally 
impossible for him, were he ever so inclined, to remain 
much longer a burden on the narrow income of the 
Laird of Glenfem. One alternative only remained, 
which was to address the friend and patron of his 
youth, General Gameron; and to him he therefore 
wrote, descrîbing ail the misery of his situation, and 
imploring his forgiveness and assistance. "The old 
GeneraFs passion must hâve cooled by this time," 
thought he to himself, as he sealed the letter, " and 
as he has often overlooked former scrapes, I think, 
after ail, he will help me out of this greatest one of 
alL" 

For once Henry was not mistaken. He receiyed 
an answer to his letter, in which the General, after 
execrating his foUy in marrying a lady of quality, 



V--^ 



IfABBIAGE. 217 

swearing at tibe bîrth of hîs twin daugliters, and giving 
him some wholesome counsel as to bis future mode of 
life, concluded by informiiig bim tbat be bad got bim 
reinstated in bis f onner rank in the army ; tbat be 
flhould settle seyen bundred per annum on bim tiU 
be saw bow matters were conducted, and, in tbe mean- 
time, endosed a draugbt for four bundred pounds, to 
open tbe campaign. 

Tbougb tbis was not» according to Henry's notions, 
«coming down bandsomely/' still it was better tban 
not coming down at ail, and witb a mixture of deligbt 
and disappointment be flew to communicate tbe tidings 
to Ladj Juliana. 

^'Seven bundred pounds a yearl" ezdaîmed sbe, 
in raptures : '^Hearens 1 wbat a quantity of monej ! 
wbj, Wd sball be quite ricb, and I sball baye sucb a 
beautiful bouse, and sucb pretty carriages, and giye 
sucb parties, and buy so many fine tbingSL Ob dear, 
how bappy I sball be 1" 

**Tou know little of money, Julia, if you tbink 
seyen bundred pounds will do ail tbat," replied ber 
hnsband grayely. ''I bardly tbink we can afford a 
bouse in town ; but we may baye a pretty cottage at 
Bicbmond or Twickenbam, and I can keep a curricle, 
and diiye you abouti you know; and we may giye 
famous good dinners.'' 

A dispute bere ensued; ber ladysbip bated cot- 
tages and curricles and good dinnen as mucb as 
ber busband despised fancy balls, opéra boxes, and 
duoiotii 



218 BfABBIAGE. 

The fact was that the one knew very nearly aa 
mach of the real value of monej as the other, and 
Hemys aoher scheme was just about as practîcable as 
his wif e's extravagant one. 

Brought np in the luzurious profusion of a great 
house ; accustomed to issue her orders and hâve them 
obejed, Lady Juliana, at the time she married, was 
in the most blissful state of ignorance respectîng the 
value of pounds, shillings, and pence. Her maid took 
care to hâve her wardrobe supplied with ail things 
needful, and when she Wanted a new dress or a 
fashionable jewel, it was only driving to Madame D.'s, 
or Mr. T. 's, and desiring the article to be sent to 
herself , while the bill went to her papa. 

From never seeing money in its own vulgar form, 
Lady Juliana had leamed to consider it as a mère 
nominal thing ; while, on the other hand, her husband, 
from seeing too much of it^ had f ormed almost equally 
erroneous ideas of its powers. By the mistaken kind- 
ness of General Cameron he had been indulged in ail 
the fashionable foUies of the day, and allowed to use 
his patron's ample fortune as if it had already been 
- his own ; nor was it until he f oûnd himself a prisoner 
at Glenfem from want of money that he had ever 
attached the smallest importance to it In short, both 
the husband and wif e had been accustomed to look 
upon it in the same light as the air they breathed. 
They knew it essential to life, and concluded that it 
would come some way or other ; either from the east 
or west, north or soutL As for the vulgar concerna 



KABBIAGB. "^19 

of méat and drink, servants' wages, taxes, and so f orth, 
thej never found a place in the calculatîons of either. 
Birthday dresses, fêtes, opéras, équipages, and state 
liveries whirled in rapid succession through Lady 
Juliana's braîn, while clubs, currides, horses^ and 
claret, took possession of her husband's mind 

However mucb they differed in the proposed 
modes of showing off in London, both agreed per- 
fectly in the necessity of going there, and Henry 
theref ore hastened to inf orm his father of the change 
in his circumstances, and apprise him of his inten- 
tion of immediately joining his régiment^ the 

Guards. 

''Seven hunder pound a year! " exclaimed the old 
gentleman ; '' Seven hunder pound ! Oo what can ye 
mak' o* a' that sillerl Ye'll surely lay by the half o't 
to tocher your baims. Seven hunder pound a year 
for doing naething ! " 

Miss Jacky was af raid, unless they got some person 
of sensé (which would not be an easy matter) to take 
the management of it, it would perhaps be found 
little enough in the long-run. 

Miss Grizzy declared it was a very handsome 
income, nobody could dispute that ; at the same dme, 
everybody must allow that the money could not haye 
been better bestowed. 

Miss Nicky observed "there was a great deal of 
good eating and drinking in seven hundred a year, if 
people knew how to manage it" 

Ail was bustle and préparation throughout Glen- 



220 MÂSBIÀGB. 

fem Castle, and the young ladies' good-natured 
activity and muscular powers were again in réqui- 
sition to' collect the wardrobe, and pack the tninks, 
impérial, etc., of their noble dster. 

Glenfem remarked '* that foies war fond o' flitting, 
for thej seemed glad to leave the good quarters they 
were in." 

Miss Qnzzj dedared there was a great excuse for 
their being glad, poor things! young people were 
always so fond of a change ; at the same time, nobody 
conld deny but that it would hâve been quite natoral 
for them to feel sorry too. 

Miss Jacky was astonished how any person's mind 
could be so calions as to think of leaving Glenfem 
without emotioa 

Miss Nicky wondered what was to become of the 
christening cake she had ordered from Perth; it 
might be as old as the hills before there would be 
another child bom amongst them. 

The Misses were ready to weep at the disappoint* 
ment of the dreaming-bread. 

In the midst of ail this agitation, mental and 
bodily, the long-looked-for moment arrived. The 
carriage drore round ready packed and loaded, and, 
absolutely screaming with delight^ Lady Juliana 
sprang into it As she nodded and kissed her hand 
to the assembled group, she impatiently called to 
Henry to foUow. His adieus were, however, not 
quite so tonish as those of his high-bred lady, for he 
went duly and severally through ail the évolutions of 



MABBUGB. 221 

kissîng, embracing, shakîng of hands, and promises to 
Write ; then taking bis station by the side of the nurse 
and child — the rest of the carnage being completely 
filled by the favourites — he bade a long farewell to 
his patemal halls and the land of his birtk 



•.->«. •>!.-> 



OHAPTER XX. 

" For trifles, why shonld I displease 
The man I love ? For trifles sucli as thèse 
To serions ]nischie& lead the man I love." 

HORAGB. 

Bright prospects of future happiness and endiess 
plans of expense floated through Lady Juliana's brain, 
and kept her temper in some degree of sereniiy during 
the joumey. 

Arrived in London, she expressed herself enrap- 
tured at being once more in a civilised countij, and 
restored to the societj of human créatures. An 
élégant house and suitable establishment were im- 
mediately provided; and a thousand dear friends, 
who had completely f orgotten her existence, were now 
eager to welcome her to her former haunts, and 
lead her thoughtless and willing steps in the paths 
of dissipation and extravaganca 

Soon after their arrivai they were visited by 
General Oameron. It was two o'clock, yet Lady 
Juliana had not appeared ; and Henry, half-stretched 
upon a sofa, was dawdling over his breakfast with 
half-ardozen newspapers scattered round. 

The first salutations over, the Greneral demanded, 



MARRIAGB. 223 

" Am I not to be f avoured with a dglit of your lady ? 
Is she afraîd that I am one of your country relations, 
and taken her flight from the breakfast-table in con- 
séquence ?" 

" She bas not yet made ber appearance," replied 
Douglas ; " but I will let her know you are hère. I 
am sure she will be happy to make acquaîntance with 
one to whom I am so much indebted." 

 message was despatched to Lady Juliana^ who 
retumed for answer that she would be down imme- 
diately. Three quarters of an hour, however, elapsed ; 
and the General, provoked with this inattention and 
affectation, was preparing to départ when the Lady 
made her appearance. 

'^Juliana, my love," said her husband, "let me 
présent you to General Cameron — ^the gênerons friend 
who bas acted the part of a f ather towards me, and to 
whom you owe ail the comforts you enjoy." 

Lady Juliana sUghtly bowed with careless ease, and 
half uttered a " How d'ye do? — ^very happy indeed," as 
she glided on to pull the bell for breakf ast " Oupid, 
Cupid !" cried she to the dog, who had flown upon the 
General, and was barking most vehemently. " Poor 
darling Cupid! are you almost starved to deathl 
Harry, do give him that muffin on your plate." 

"You are very late to-day, my love," cried the 
mortified husband. 

" I bave been pestered for the last hour with Du val 
and the court dresses, and I could not fix on what I 
should like." 



234 ICABBIAGE. 

** I think jou might hâve def eired the ceremony of 
choosing to another opportuniiy. General -Cameron 
bas been hère above an hoor." 

^'Dear! I hope 70a did not wait f or ma lahall 
be quite ahocked!" drawled oat her ladyship in a 
tone denotîng how yeiy indiffèrent the answer woold 
be to her. 

'' I beg jour hidyship would be nnder no uneasi- 
ness on that account," replied the General in an 
ironical tone, which, though lost npon her, was 
obvions enongh to Henry. 

^'Have you breakfastedf" asked Lady Jnliana^ 
ezerfcing herself to be polite. 

"Absurd, my love !" cried her hnsband. " Do you 
suppose I should bave allowed the General to wait 
for that too ail this time, if he had not breakf asted 
many hours ago 1" 

** How cross you are this moming, my Harry ! I 
protest my Gupidon is quite ashamed of your gros- 

A servant now entered to say Mr. Shagg was come 
to know her ladyship's final décision about the 
hammer-cloths ; and the new footman was come to 
be engaged ; and the china merchant was below. 

" Send up one of them at a tûne ; and as to the 
footman, you may say 111 bave him at once,'' said 
Lady Julian& 

*'I thought you had engaged Mrs. D.'s footman 
last week. She gave him the best character, did sho 
&ott" asked her husband. 



HABBIAGI. 225 

*' OH jea ! bis character was good enough ; but he 
was a honid cheat for ail that He called himself 
fiye feet nine, and when lie was measured he tumed 
out to be only five feet seyen and a hall" 

"Pshaw !" ezclaîined Henry angrily. " What the 
deyil dîd that signify if the man had a good cha- 
racter T 

"How absurdly you talk, Harry, as if a man's 
character signified who bas nothing to do but to 
stand behind my carriage ! A pretty figure he'd 
made there beside Thomas, who is at least five feet 
ten!" 

The entrance of Mr. Shagg, bowing and scraping, 
and laden with cloths, lace, and fringes, interrapted 
the conversation. 

" Well, Mr. Shagg,'* cried Lady Juliana, " what's to 
be done with that odious leopard's skin ? You mnst 
positively take it off my hands. I would rather never 
go in a carriage agaîn as show myself in the Park with 
that frightful thing." 

"Certainly, my Lady," replied the obsequious Mr. 
Shagg, " anything your Ladyship pleases ; your Lady- 
ship can bave any hammer-cloth you like; and I 
bave accordingly brought pattems of the very newèst 
fashions for your Ladyship to make choica Hère 
are some uncommon élégant articles. Ât the same 
time, my Lady, your Ladyship must be sensible that 
it is impossible that we can take back the leopard's 
skin- It was not only eut out to fit your Ladyship's 
coach-boz — and consequently your Ladyship under- 

YOU L Q M. 



226 MABRIAGE. 

stands ît would not fit any otiher — ^but the silver feet 
and crests bave also been affixed quite ready for use, 
80 tbat tbe article îs quite lost to us. I am confident» 
therefore, that your Ladyship will consider of this, 
and allow it to be put down in your bilL" 

" Put it anywhere but on my coach-box, and don't 
bore me !" answered Lady Juliana, tossing over the 
pattems, and humming a tune. 

" What," said her husband, " is that the leopard's 
skin you were raving about last week, and are you 
tired of it before it has been used V* 

"And no wonder. Who do you thînk I saw in 
the Park yesterday but that old quiz Lady Denham, 
just corne from the country, with her frightful old 
coach set off with a hammer-cloth precisely like the 
one I had ordered. Only fancy people saying, Lady 
Denham sets the f ashion for Lady Juliana Douglas ! 
Oh, there's confusion and despaîr in the thought !" 

Confusion, at least, if not despair, was painted in 
Henry's face as he saw the General's glance directed 
altemately with contempt at Lady Juliana^ and at 
himself, mingled with pity. He continued to fidget 
about in ail directions, while Lady Juliana talked 
nonsense to Mr. Shagg, and wondered if the General 
never meant to go away. But he calmly kept bis 
ground till the man was dismissed, and another intro- 
duced, loaded with china jars, monsters, and distorted 
teapots, for the capricious fair one's choice and appro- 
bation. 

''Beg ten thousand pardons, my Lady, for not 



HARBU6E. 227 

calling yesterday, according to appointment — quite an 
unforeseen impediment. The Countess of Godolphin 
had somehow got private intelligence that I had a set 
of fresh commodities just cleared from the custom- 
house, and well knowing such things are not long in 
hand, her La'ship came up from the country on pur- 
pose — the Countess has so much taste ! — she drove 
straight to my warehouse, and kept me a close prisoner 
till after your La'ship's hour ; but I hope it may not 
be taken amiss, seeing that it is not a customary thing 
with us to be calling on customers, not to mention 
that Om line of goods is not eadly transported about 
However, I flatter myself the articles now brought 
for your Ladyship's inspection will not be found be- 
neath your notice. Please to observe thîs choice pièce 
— ^it represents a Chmese cripple squat on the ground, 
with his legs crossed. Your Ladyship may observe 
the head and chin advanced forwards, as in the act of 
begging. The tea pours from the open mouth ; and, 
till your Ladyship tries, you can hâve no idea of the 
élégant ejQTect it produces." 

" That is really droU," cried Lady Juliana, with a 
laugh of delight; *^and I must hâve the dear sick 
beggar; he is so deliciously hideoua'' 

"And hère," continued Mr. Brittle, "is an amaz- 
ing délicate article, in the way of a jewel — a frog of 
Turldsh agate for buming pastiles in, my Lady ; just 
such as they use in the seraglio ; and indeed this one 
I may call invaluable, for it was the favourîte toy of 
one of the widowed Sultanas till she grew devout and 



228 MÂRRIAGE. 

gave up perfumes. One of her slaves disposed of ît 
to my foreign partner. Hère it opens at the tail, 
where you put in the pastîles, and closing it up, the 
vapour issues beautifully through the nostrils, eyes, 
ears, and mouth, ail at onca Hère, sir," tuming to 
Douglas, «if you are curions in new workmanship, I 
would hâve you examine this. I defy any jeweller in 
London to corne up to the fineness of thèse hinges, 
and delicacy of the carving " 

"Pshaw, damn it!" said Douglas, tuming away, 
and addressing some remark to the General, who was 
provoMngly attentive to everything that went on. 

" Hère," continued Mr. Brittle, " are a set of jars, 
teapots, mandarins, sea-monsters, and pug-dogs, ail of 
superior beauty, but such as your Ladyship may hâve 
seen before." 

" Oh, the dear, dear little puggies ! I must hâve 
them to amuse my own darlings. I protest hère is 
one the image of Psyché ; positively I must kiss it 1" 

" Oh dear ! I am sure," cried Mr. Brittle, simpering, 
and making a conceited bow, " your Ladyship does it 
and me too much honour. But hère, as I was going 
to say, is the phœnix of ail porcelain ware — the ne 
plus ultra of perfection — ^what I hâve kept in my back 
room, concealed from ail eyes, until your Ladyship 
shaU pronounce upon it. Somehow one of my shop- 

men got word of it, and told her Grâce of L (who 

has a pretty taste in thèse things for a young lady) 
that I had some particular choice article that I waa 
keeping for a lady that was a f avourite of mine. Her 



L^ 



MABBIAGIB. 229 

Grâce was in the shop the matter of a full hour and a 
half, tzying to wheedle me ont of a sight of this rare 
pièce ; and I, pretending not to know what her Grâce 
would be after, but showing her thing after thing, to 
put it out of her head. But she was not so easily 
bubbled, and at last went away ill enough pleased. 
Now, my Lady, prépare ail your eyes." He then went 
to the door, and retumed, carrying with difficulty a 
large basket, which till then had been kept by one of 
his satellites. After remoying coverings of ail de- 
scriptions, an uncouth group of monstrous size was di»- 
played, which, on investigation, appeared to be a serpent 
coiled in regular f olds round the body of a tiger placed 
on end ; and the whole structure, which was intended 
for a vessel of some kind, was f ormed of the celebrated 
green mottled china, invaluable to connoisseurs. 

" View that well," exclaimed Mr. Brittle, in a trans- 
port of enthusiasm, " for such a spécimen not one of 
hàlf the size has ever been imported to Europa There 
is a long story about this my phœnix, as I call it ; but^ 
to be brief, it was secretly procured from one of the 
temples, where, gigantic as it may seem, and uncouth 
for the purpose, it was the idol's principal teapot !" 

"Oh delicious!" cried Lady Juliana, clasping her 
hands in ecstasy. " I wiU give a party for the sole 
purpose of drinking tea out of this machine ; and I 
will hâve the whole room fitted up Hke an Indian 
templa Oh ! it will be so new ! I die to send out my 

card& JHhe Duchess of B told me the other day, 

with such a triumphant air, when I was looking at 



230 MABBIAGE. 

her two little green jars, not a quarter the size of this, 
that there was not a bit more of that china to be had 
for love or money. Oh, she will be so provoked !" 
And she absolutely skîpped for joy. 

 loud rap at the door now announcîng a visitory 
Lady Juliana ran to the balcony, crying, " Oh, it must 
be Lady Gérard, for she promised to call early in the 
moming, that we might go together to a wonderful 
sale in some f ar-off place in the city — at Wapping, for 
aught I know. Mr. Brittle, Mr. Brittle, for the love 
of heaven, carry the dragon into the back drawing- 
room — I purchase it, remember ! — make haste ! — ^Lady 
Gérard is not to get a glimpse of it for the world'' 

The servant now entered with a message from Lady 
Gérard, who would not alight, beggîng that Lady 
Juliana would make haste down to her, as they had 
not a moment to lose. She was flying away, without 
further ceremony than a " Pray, excuse me," to the 
General, when her husband called after her to know 
whether the child was gone out, as he wished to show 
her to the Général 

"I don't know, indeed," replied the fashionable 
mother ; " I haven't had time to see her to-day ;" and, 
before Douglas could reply she was downstair& 

A pause ensued — the General whistled a quick 
step, and Douglas walked up and down the room in a 
pitiable state of mind, guessing pretty much what was 
passing in the mind of his frîend, and fully sensible 
that it must be of a severer nature than anything he 
could yet allow himself to think of his Juliana. 



KAIIBIAGE. 231 

"Douglas," said the General, "hâve you made any 
step towards a réconciliation with your f ather-in-law f 
I believe it will become shortly necessary for your 
support" 

"Juliana wrote twice after her marriage," replied 
he; "but the réception which her letters met with 
was not such as to encourage persévérance on our part 
With regard to myself, it is not an affair in which 
delicacy will permit me to be very active, as I might 
be accused of mercenary motives, which I am far from 
having." 

" Oh, of that I acquit you ; but surely it ought tô 
be a matter of moment, even to a — Lady Juliana. 
The case is now altered. Time must hâve accustomed 
him to the idea of this imagînary affront ; and, on my 
honour, if he thought like a gentleman and a man of 
sensé, I know where he would think the misfortune 
lay. Nay, don't interrupt me. The old Earl must 
now, I say, hâve cooled in his resentment ; perhaps, 
too, his grandchildren may soften his heart; this 
must hâve occurred to you. Has her Ladyship taken 
any further steps since her arrivai in town î " 

" I — ^I believe she has not ; but I will put her in 
mind." 

"A daughter who requires to hâve her memory 
refreshed on such a subject is likely to make a valu- 
able wife 1" said the General drily. 

Douglas felt as if it was incumbent on him to be 
angry, but remained silent 

"Hark ye, Douglas," continued the General, "I 



232 MÀBRIAGE. 

speak this for your interest You connot go on wîth' 
ont the Earl's help. You know I am not on ceremony 
with you ; and if I refrain from saying what you see 
I think about your présent ruinous mode of life, it 
is not to spare your feelings, but from a sensé of the 
uselessness of any such remonstranca What I do 
give you is with goodwill ; but ail my fortune y/^ovlà 
not suffice to fumish pug-dogs and deformed teapots 
for such a vitiated taste ; and if it would, hang me if 
it should ! But enough on this head. The Earl has 
been in bad health, and is lately come to town. His 
son, too, and his lady are to come about the same time, 
and are to réside with him during the season. I hâve 
heard Lord Lindore spoken of as a good-natured easy 
man, and he would probably enter willingly into any 
scheme to reinstate his sister into his father's good 
grâces. Think of this, and make what you can of it ; 
and my particular advice to you personally is, try to 
exchange into a marching régiment ; for a f ellow like 
you, with such a wife, London is the very devil I and 
80 good moming to you.'' He snatched up his hat^ 
«ad was off in a moment ^ 



OHAPTEB XXI 

** To leckon np a fhonsand of her pruiki^ 

Her pride, her wasteftil spending^ her nnlriTidTiee^ 

Her scolding, poatmg^ . . . 

Were to reap an endless catalogue." 

Oîd Play, 

When Lady Juliana retumed from her expédition, it 
was 80 late that Douglas had not time to speak to her; 
and separate engagements carrying them différent 
ways, he had no opportunity to do so until the foUow- 
ing moming at breakf ast He then resolved no longer 
to def er what he had to say, and began by reproaching 
her with the cavalier manner in which she had behaved 
to his good friend the Général 

"Upon my life, Harry, you are grown perfectly 
Savage,'' cried his Lady. ''I was most particularly 
civil ; I wonder what you would hâve me to do 1 You 
know very well I cannot hâve anything to say to old 
men of that sort" 

"I think," retumed Henry, "you might hâve been 
gratified by making an acquaintance with my bene- 
factor, and the man to whom you owe the enjoyment 
of your favourite pleasures. At any rate, you need 
not hâve made yourself ridiculous. May I perish 



234 MABBIAGE. 

if I did not wish myself underground whîle you 
were talking nonsense to ihose sneaking rascals who 
wheedle you out of your money ! S'death 1 I had a 
good mind to throw them and their trumpeiy out 
of the window when I saw you make such a fool of 
yourself." 

'* A fool of myself ! how f oolishly you talk ! and as 
for that Yulgar, awkward General, he ought to hâve 
been too much flattered. Some of the monsters were 
80 like himself, I am sure he must hâve thougfat I 
took them for the love of his round bare pâte." 

" Upon my soûl, Julia, I am ashamed of you ! Do 
leave off this excessive foUy, and try to be rationaL 
What I particularly wished to say to you is that your 
father is in town, and it will be proper that you should 
make another effort to be reconciled to him." 

" I date say it will," answered Lady Juliana» with 
a yawn. 

''And you must lose no tima When will you 
Write?" 

" There's no usé in writing, or indeed doing any- 
thing in the matter. I am sure he won't forgive me." 

«Andwhynotî" 

"Oh, why should he do it nowî He did net for- 
give me when I asked him befora" 

'' And do you think, then, for a father's forgiveness 
it is not worth while to hâve a little persévérance f " 

" I am sure he won't do it ; so 'tis in vain to try," 
repeated she, going to the glass, and singing, ^ Papa 
mon dite di no" etc. 



MARRIAGB. 235 

"By heavens, Julia!" cried her husband passion- 
ately, "you are past ail endurance! Can nothing 
touch you? — ^nothing fix your thoughts, and make 
you serîous for a single' moment ? Can I not make 
you understand that you are ruining yourself and me; 
ihat we hâve nothing to dépend upon but the bounty 
of that man whom you disgust by your caprice, extra- 
vagance, and impertinence ; and that if you don't get 
reconciled tp your f ather what is to become of you î 
You already know what you hâve to expect from my 
family, and how you like living with them." 

"Heavens, Harry!" exclaimed herLadyship, "what 
is ail this tirade about? Is it because I said papa 
wouldn't forgive meî l'm sure I don't mind writ- 
ing to him; I hâve no objection, the first leisure 
moment I hâve ; but really, in town, one's time is so 
engrossed." 

Ât this moment her maid entered in triumph, 
carrying on her anns a satin dress, embroidered with 
gold and flowers. 

" See, my Lady," cried she,. "your new robe, as 
Madame has sent home half a day sooner than her 
Word : and she h&s disobliged several of the quality 
by no; giviBg the pattem.» 

" Oh, lovely l charming! Spread it out, Gage; hold 
it to the light ; ail my own fancy. Only look, Harry ; 
how exquisite ! how divine !" 

Harry had no time to express his contempt for 
embroidered robes ; for just then one of his knowing 
friends came, by appointment, to accompany him to 



236 MABRIAGE. 

Tattersal's, where he was to bid for a famous pair of 
curricle grays. 

Days passed on without Lady Julîana's ever think- 
ing it worth while to foUow her husband's advice 
about applying to her father; until a week after, 
Douglas overheard the f ollowing conversation between 
his wif e and one of her acquaintance. 

" You are going to this grand fUe^ of course," said 
Mrs. 6. "Fm told it is to éclipse everything that 
has been yet seen or heard of." 

'* Of what fUe do you speak ?" demanded Lady 
Juliana. 

"Lord, my dear créature, how Gothic you are! 
Don't you know anjrthing about this grand affair that 
everybody has been talking of for two days ? Lady 
Lindore gives, at your father's house, an entertain- 
ment which is to be a concert^ bail, and masquerade 
at once. AU London is asked, of any distinction, c'a 
^entend. But, bless me, I beg pardon, I totally f orgot 
that you were not on the best terms possible in that 
quarter ; but never mind, we must hâve you go ; there 
is not a person of f ashion that will stay away ; I must 
get you asked ; I shall pétition Lady Lindore in your 
faveur." 

"Oh pray don't trouble yourself," crîed Lady 
Juliana, in extrême pique. " I believe I can get this 
done without your obliging interférence ; but I don't 
know whether I shall be in town then." 

From this moment Lady Juliana resolved to mako 
a vigorous effort to regain a footing in her f ather's 



MABBIAQE. 237 

housa Her first action the next momîng was to 
write to her brother, who had hitherto kept àloof, 
because he could not be at the trouble of having a 
différence with the Earl, entreating him to use his 
influence in promoting a reconciliation between her 
f ather and hersell 

No answer was retumed for four days, at the end 
of which time Ladj Juliana received the following 
note from her brother : — 

"Dbar Julia^— I quite agrée with you in thinking 
that you hâve been kept long enough in the corner, 
and shaU certaînly tell Papa that you are ready to 
become a good girl whenever he shall please to take 
you ont of it I shall endeavour to see Douglas and 
you soon. — Yours affectionately, Lindorb." 



'- M 



Lady lindore desires me to say you can hâve 
tickets for her bail, if you choose to corne en masque.'* 

Lady Juliana was delighted with this bUlet^ which 
she protested was everything that was kind and 
gênerons ; but the postscript was the part on which 
she dwelt with the greatest deUght, as she repeatedly 
declared it was a great deal more than she expected. 
" You see, Harry/' said she, as she tossed the note to 
him, " I was in the right Papa won't f orgive me ; 
but Lindore says he will send me a ticket for tho 
fêie ; it is vastly attentive of him, for I did not ask 
it But I must go disguised, which is monstrous pro< 
voking, for Fm afraid nobody will know ma" 



238 MARBIÂGE. 

A dispute hère ensueA Henry swore she should 
not steal into her father's house as long as she was 
hîs wîf e. The lady insisted that she should go to her 
brother's fUe when she was invited ; and the alter- 
cation ended as altercations commonly do, leaving 
both parties more wedded to their own opinion than 
at first 

In the evening Lady Juliana went to a large party; 
and as she was passing from one room into another 
she was startled by a little paper pellet thrown at 
her. Turning round to look for the offender, she 
saw her brother standing at a little distance, smiling 
at her surprise. This was the first time she had seen 
him for two years, and she went up to him with an 
e^tended hand, while he gave her a familiar nod, and 
a " How d*ye do, JuHa ?" and one finger of his hand, 
while he tumed round to speak to one of his com- 
panions. Nothing could be more characteristic of 
both parties than this fratemal meeting ; and from 
this time they were the best friends imaginables 



OHAPTER XXIL 

" Helas ! où donc chercher on trouver le bonheur, 
Knlle part tout entier, partout avec mesure !" 

Voltaire. 

SOMB days before the expected fU^ Lady Julîana, at 
the instigation of her adviser, Lady Gérard, resolved 

upon taking the field against the Duchess of L . 

Her Grâce had issued cards for a concert ; and af ter 
mature délibération it was decided that her rival 
should strike out something new, and announce a 
christening for the same night 

The fîrst intimation Douglas had of the honour 
intended him by this arrangement was through the 
médium of the newspaper, for the husband and wife 
were now much too f ashionable to be at ail au fait of 
each other's schemes. His first émotion was to be 
extremely surprised ; the next to be exceedingly dis- 
pleased; and the last to be highly gratified at the 
éclat with which his child was to be made a Christiaa 
True, he had intended requesting the General to act 
as godfather upon the occasion; but Lady Julîana 
protested she would rather the child never should be 
chrîstened at ail (whidh already seemed nearly to 
hâve been the case) than hâve that cross yulgar-look 



240 HABRUGE. 

ing man to stand sponsor. Her Ladyshîp, however, 
80 far conceded that the General was to bave the 
honoiir of gîving his name to the nezt^ if a boy, for 
sbe was now near ber second confinement ; and, witb 
tbis promise Henry was satisfied to sligbt tbe only 
being in the world to wbom he looked for support to 
bimself and bis cbildren. In tbe utmost deligbt the 
fond motber drove away to consult ber confidants 
upon the name and décorations of tbe cbild, wbom 
sbe bad not even looked at for many days. 

Eyerything succeeded to admiration. Âmîd crowds 
of spectators, in ail tbe pomp of lace and satin, sur- 
roonded by princes and peers, and banded from 
dnchesses to countesses, tbe twin daughter of Henry 
Douglas, and tbe beroine of future story, became a 
Christian by tbe names of Adelaide Julia. 

Some montbs préviens to tbis event Lady Juliana 
bad received a letter from Mrs. Douglas, informing 
ber of tbe rapid improvement that bad taken place in 
ber little charge, and requesting to know by what 
name sbe sbould bave ber christened; at the same 
time gently insinuating ber wish tbat, in compliance 
witb tbe custom of tbe country, and as a compliment 
due to the f amily, it sbould be named after its pater- 
nal grandmother. 

Lady Juliana glanced orer the first Une of tbe 
letter, then looked at the signature, resolved to read 
the rest as soon as sbe sbould bave time to answer it ; 
and in tbe meantime tossed it into a drawer, amongst 
old yiaiting cards and unpaid bill& 



mâhriage. 241 

After yafaily waîtîng for an answer, much beyond 
the accustomed time when children are baptized, Mfel 
Douglas could no longer refuse to accède to the dé- 
sires of the vénérable inmates of Glenf em ; and about 
a month bef ore ber favoured sister received her more 
élégant appellations, the neglected twin was baptized 
by the name of Mary. 

Mrs. Douglas's letter had been enclosed in the 
folloTnng one from Miss Grizzy, and as it had not 
the good fortune to be perused by the person to whom 
it was addressed, we deem it but justice to the writer 
ta insert it hère : — 

'^Olbneern Gastlb, Jvly ZOihy 17^-. 

"Mt dkarest Nièce, Lady Juliana — I am 
Certain, as indeed we ail are, that it will Afford your 
Ladyshîp and our dear Nephew the greatest Pleasure 
to see this letter Franked by our Worthy and Respect- 
able Friend Sir Sampson Maclaughlan, Bart , especially 
as it is the First he bas ever franked ; out of compli- 
ment to you, as I assure you he admires you excess- 
iyely, as indeed we ail do. Ât the same Time, you 
will of course, I am sure. Sympathise with us ail in 
the distress Occasioned by the melancholy Death of 
our late Most Obligîng Member, Duncan M*Dunsmuîr, 
Esquire, of Dhunacrag and Auchnagoil, who you never 
bave had the Pleasure of seeing. What renders bis 
death Particularly distressing, is, that Lady Mac 
laughlan is of opinion it was entirely owing to eating 

VOI* L R M. 



242 MÀRSIÀGE. 

Raw oysters, and damp f eet This ought to be a 
wamîng to ail Young people to take care of Wet f eet, 
and Especially eating Baw oysteis, which are certaînly 
Highly dangerous, partîcularly where there is any 
Tendency to Goût I hope, my dear Nièce, yoa hâve 
got a pair of Stout walking shoes, and that both 
Heniy and you remember to Change your feet after 
Walking. I am told Saw Oysters are much the 
f ashion in London at présent ; but when this Fatal 
Event cornes to be Enown, it will of course Alarm 
people very much, and put them upon their gaard 
both as to Damp Feet and Itaw oysters. Lady 
Maclaughlan is in High spirits at Sir Sampson's Suc- 
cess, though, at the Same Time, I assure you, she 
Felt much for the Distress of poor Mr. MDunsmuir, 
and had sent him a Large Box of Pills, and a Bottle 
of Gk)ut Tincture, only two days before he died. 
This will be a great Thing for you, and especially for 
Henry, my dear nièce, as Sir Sampson and Lady 
Maclaughlan are going to London directly to take his 
Seat in Parliament; and she will make a point of 
Paying you every attention, and will Matronise yoa 
to the play, and any other Public places you may wish 
to go ; as both my Sisters and I are of opinion yoa 
are rather Young to matronise yourself yet, and you 
could not get a more Eespectable Matron than Lady 
Madaughlan. I hope Harry wont take it amiss if 
Sir Sampson does not pay him so much Attention as 
he might expect; but he says that he will not be 
master of a moment of his own Time in London. He 



MAHRIAGE. 243 

will be so much taken up with the King and the Duke 
of York, that he îs afraid he will Disoblige a great 
Number of the Nobility by it, besides injuring his 
own heàlth by such Constant application to business. 
He is to make a very fine Speecï in ParUament, but 
it is not yet Fixed what his First Motion is to be upon. 
He himself wishes to move for a New Subsidy to the 
Emperor of G^rmany; but Lady Maclaughlan is of 
opinion that it would be better to Bring in a Bill for 
Building a bridge over the Water of Dlin ; which, to 
be sure, is very much wanted, as a Horse and Cart 
were drowned at the Ford last Speat We are Ail, I 
am happy to Say, in excellent HealtL Becky is re- 
covering from the Measles as well as could be Wished, 
and the Eose^ is quite gone out of Bella's Face. 
Beennie has been prevented from Finishing a most 
Beautiful Pair of bottle Sliders for your Ladyship by 
a whitlow, but it is now Mending, and I hope will be 
done in Time to go with Babby's Vase Carpet, which 
îs eztremely élégant, by Sir S. and Lady Maclaughlan. 
This Place is in great Beauty at présent^ and the new 
Byre is completely finished. My Sisters and I regret 
Excessively that Henry and you should hâve seen 
Glenfem to such disadvantage ; but when next you 
faveur us with a visit, I hope it will be in Summer, 
and the New Byre you will think a Prodigious Im- 
provement Our dear little Grand-niece is in great 
health, and much improved. We reckon her Extremely 
like our Family, Particularly Becky ; though she has 

^ Eiysipelas. 



244 MABBIAGE. 

a great Look of Bella, at the Same Time, when she 
Laughs. Excuse the Shortness of this Letter, my 
dear Nièce, as I shall Write a much Longer one by 
Lady MaclauglilaiL 

" Meantime, I remain, my 

" Dear Lady Juliana, yours and 

'* Henry's most affect aont^ 

" Grizzel Dougias." 

Li spite of her husband's remonstrance Lady Juliana 
persisted in her resolution of attending her sister-in- 
laVs masked bail, from which she retumed, wom 
qut with amusement and surf eited with pleasure ; pro* 
testing ail the while she dawdled over her evening 
breakfast the foUowing day that there was nobody 
in the world 80 much to be envied as Lady Lindora 
Such jewels! such dresses! such a house! such a 
hufiband! so easy and good-natured, and rich and 
gênerons 1 She was sure Lindore did not care what 
his wife did. She might give what parties she pleased, 
go where she liked, spend as much money as she 
chose, and he would never trouble his head about the 
matter. She was quite certain Lady Lindore had not 
a single thing to wish for: ergo, she must be the 
happiest woman in the world ! AU this was addressed 
to Henry, who had, however, attained the happy art 
of not hearing above one word out of a hundred that 
happened to fall from the ^' angel lips of his adored 
Julia;" and, having finished the newspapers, and 
made himself acquainted with ail the blood-horses, 



MABRIAGE. 245 

thorough-bied JiUies, and brood mares therein set 
fotfch, with a yawn and whistle sauntered away to 
6 's, to look at the last régulation epaulettes. 

Not long after, as Lady Juliana was stepping into 
the carrîage that was to whirl lier to Bond Street she 
was met by her husband, who, with a solemnitj of 
manner that would bave startled any one but bis 
volatile lady, requested she would retum with him 
into the house, as he wished to converse with her 
upon a subject of some importance. He prevaîled on 
her to retum, upon condition that he would not detaîn 
her above five minutes When, shuttîng the drawing- 
room doors, he saîd, with eamestness, '* I think, Julia, 
you were talking of Lady lindore this moming: 
oblige me by repeating what you said, as I was read- 
ing the papers, and really did not attend mnch to 
what passed." 

Her Ladyship, in extrême surprise, wondered how 
Harry could be so tîresome and absurd as to stop her 
airing for any such purpose. She reaUy did not 
know what she said. How could she ) It was more 
than an hour ago. 

"Well, then, say what you think of her noWy" 
cried Douglas impatîently. 

"Think of her! why, what ail the world must 
think — that she is the happîest woman in it She 
looked so uncommonly well last night^ and was in 
such spirits, in her fancy dress, before she masked 
Âfter that, I quite lost sight of her." 

"As every one else bas dona She bas not been 



246 MABRUGE. 

seen since. Her favourite St Léger is missing too, 
and there is hardly a doubt but that thej are gone off 
togeiher." 

Even Lady Juliana was shocked at iMs intelligence, 
though the foUj, more than the wickedness» of the 
ihing, seemed to strike her mind ; but Henry was no 
nice observer, and was therefore completely satisiied 
with the disapprobation she expressed for her sister- 
in-law's conduct 

^'I am 80 sorry for poor dear Lindore," said Lady 
Juliana after having ezhausted herself in invectives 
against his wif& "Such a gênerons créature as he 
to be used in such a manner — ^it is quite shocking 
to think of it ! U he had been an ill-natured stingy 
wretch it would hâve been nothing ; but Frederick is 
such a ûoble-hearted f ellow — ^I dare say he would give 
me a thousand pounds if I were to ask him, for he 
don't care about money." 

"Lord Lindore takes the matter very coolly, I 
understand," replied her husband; "but — don't be 
alarmed, dear Julia — your father has suffered a little 
from the violence of his f eelings. He has had a sort 
of apoplectîc fit, but is not considered in immédiate 
danger." 

Lady Juliana burst into tears, desirecl the carriage 
might be put up, as she should not go out^ and even 

declared her intention of abstaining from Mrs. D 's 

assembly that evening. Henry warmly commended 
the extrême propriety of thèse measures ; and, not to 
be outdone in greatness of mind, most heroically sent 



MABKIAGK 247 

an apology to a grand military dinner at ihe Du^e of 

Y 's; observing, at the same time, that, in the 

présent state of the family, one or two friends to a 
quiet family dinner was as much as they should be 
np ta 



OHAPTEE XXm 

'* I bnt purpose to embark with thM 
On the smooth surface of a sammer sea, 
While gentle zéphyrs play in prospérons gales, 
And Fortnne's favour fills the swelling sails." 

Henry and Emma, 

How long thèse volnntary sacrifices to dnty and pro- 
priety might hâve been made it would not be difficnlt 
to guess ; but Lady Juliana's approachîng confinement 
rendered her seclusion more and more a matter of 
necessity ; and shortly after thèse events took place 
she presented her delighted husband with a son. 
Henry lost no tîme in announcîng the birth of his 
child to General Cameron, and at the same tîme 
requestîng he would stand godfather, and gîve his 
name to the child. The answer was as f ollows : — 

'< HORT LODGE, BeRES. 

"Dbar Henry — ^By this time twelvemonth I hope 
it will be my tum to communicate to you a similar 
event in my family to that which your letter an- 
nounces to me. As a preHminary step, I am just 
about to march into quiters foriife ^th a young 
woman, daughter to my steward. She is healthy, 



MABBIAGE. 249 

good-humoared, and of course vulgar, sînce she is no 
connoisseur in chîna^ and never spoke to a pug-dog in 
her lifa 

" Your aQowance will be remitted regularly from 
my Banker until the day of my death ; you will then 
succeed to ten thousand pounds, secured to yonr 
children, which is ail you hâve to expect from me. 
If, after this, you think it worth your while, you are 
very welcome to give your son the name of yours 
faithfally, William Cameron/' 

Heniy's consternation at the contents of this epistle 
was almost equalled by Juliana's indignation. ** The 
daughter of a steward ! — Heavens 1 it made her sick 
to think of it It was too shocking ! The man ought 
to be shut up. Henry ought to prevent him from 
disgracing his 'connexions in such a manner. There 
ought to be a law against old men marrying ** 

"And young ones too," groaned Douglas, as he 
thought of the debts he had contracted on the faith 
and crédit of being the Générales heir ; for with ail 
the sanguine presumption of tboughtless youth and 
buoyant spirits, Henry had no sooner found his fault 
f orgiyen than he immediately f ancied it f orgotten, 
and himself ~completely restored to favour. His 
friends and the world were of the same opinion ; and, 
as the future possessor of immense wealth, he found 
nothing so easy as to borrow money and contract 
debts, which he now saw the impossibility of ever 
discharging. Still he flattered himself the General 



250 MABBIAGS. 

mîght only mean to frîghten him; or he mîght re- 
lent; or the marrîage might go oS; or he might not 
hâve any chîldren; and, wîth thèse mighty hopes, 
things went on as usual for some time longer. Lady 
Juliana, who, to do her justice, was not of a more 
desponding character than her husband, had also her 
stock of hopes and expectations always ready to act 
upon. She was qmte sure that if papa ever came to 
his sensés (for he had remained in a state of stupé- 
faction since the apoplectic stroke) he would forgive 
her, and take her to live with him, now that that vile 
Lady Lindore was gone, or, if he should never recover, 
she was equally sure of benefiting by his death ; for 
though he had said he was not to leaye her a shilling, 
she did not believe it. She was sure papa would 
never do anything so cruel; and at any rate, if he 
did, Lindore was so gênerons, he would do something 
very handsome for her ; and so f ortL 

At length the bubbles burst The same paper that 
stated the marriage of General William Cameron to 
Judith Brpadcast, Spinster, announced, in ail the 
dignity of woe, the death of that most revered noble- 
man and eminent statesman, Augustus, Earl of Court- 
land. 

In weak minds it has generally been remarked 
that no médium can be maintaîned. Where hope 
holds her dominion she is too buoyant to be accom- 
panied by her anchor ; and between her and despair 
there are no gradations. Desperate indeed now 
became the condition of the misjudgmg pair. Lady 



MARRIAGE. 251 

Julîana's name was not even mentîoned in her 
f ather's will, and the Générales marriage rendered his 
settlements no longer a secret. In ail the horrors 
of desperation, Henry now f ound himself daily beset 
by creditors of every description. At length the fatal 
blow came. Horses, carriages, everything they could 
call their own, were seized. The term for which they 
held the house was expired, and they found them- 
selves on the point of being tumed into the street, 
when Lady Juliana^ who had been for two days, as 
her woman expressed it, ovi of one fit Mo another, 
suddenly recovered strength to signify her désire of 
being conveyed to her brother's house. A hackney 
coach was procured, into which the hapless victim of 
her own follies was carried. Shuddering with disgust, 
and accompanied by her children and their attendants, 
she was set down at the noble mansion from which 
she had fted two years befora 

Her brother, whom she f ortunately found at home, 
loUing upon a sofa with a new novel in his hand, 
received her without any marks of surprise ; said those 
things happened every day ; hoped Captain Douglas 
would contrive to get himself extricated from this 
slight embarrassment ; and informed his sister that 
she was welcome to occupy her old apartments, which 
had been lately fitted up for Lady Lindore. Then 
ringing the bell, he desired the housekeeper might 
show Lady Juliana upstairs, and put the children in 
the nursery; mentioned that he generally dined at 
eight o'clock ; and, nodding to his sister as she quitted 



252 MARRIAGE. 

the room, retomed to his book, as if nothing had 
occurred to disturb him from it. 

In ten minutes after her entrance into Courtland 
house Lady Juliana had made greater advances in re- 
ligion and phUosophy than she had done in the whole 
nineteen years of her life ; for she not only perceived 
that "out of evil cometh good," but was perfectly 
ready to admit that " ail is for the best^" and that 
" whatever is, is right" 

'* How lucky is it for me," exclaimed she to herself, 
as she surveyed the splendid suite of apartments that 
were destined for her accommodation — "how very 
fortunate that things hâve tumed out as they hâve 
done; that Lady Lindore should hâve run off, and 
that the Générales marriage should hâve taken place 
just at the time of poor papa's death " — and, in short, 
Lady Juliana set no bounds to her self-gratulations on 
the happy tum of affairs which had brought about 
this change in her situation. 

To a heart not wholly devoid of feeling, and a 
mind capable of anything like reflection, the desolate 
appearance of this magnificent mansion would hâve 
excited émotions of a very différent nature. The 
apartments of the late Earl, with their wide extended 
doors and Windows, sheeted fumiture, and air of 
dreary order, exhibited that waste and chilling aspect 
which marks the chambers of death ; and even Lady 
Juliana shuddered, she knew not why, as she passed 
through them. 

Those of Lady Lindore presented a picture not lésa 



HARRIAGE. 253 

strîking, could her thoughtless successor hâve profited 
by the lesson they offered. Hère was ail that the 
most capricious fancy, the most boundless extrava- 
gance, the most refined luxur}»-, could wish for or sug- 
gest. The bedchamber, dressing-room, and boudoir 
were each fitted up in a style that seemed rather 
suited for the pleasures of an Eastem sultana or 
Grecian courtesan than for the domestic comfort of 
a British matron. 

"I wonder how Lady Lindore could find in her 
heart to leave this delicious boudoir," observed Lady 
Juliana to the old housekeeper. 

" I rather wonder, my Lady, how she could find 
in her heart to leave thèse pretty babies," retumed 
the good woman, as a little boy came running into 
the room, calling, "Mamma, mamma !" Lady Juliana 
had nothing to say to children beyond a " How d'ye 
do, lovel" and the child, after regarding her for a 
moment, with a look of disappointment, ran away back 
to his nursery. 

When Lady Juliana had fairly settled herself in 
her new apartments, and the tumult of delight began 
to subside, it occurred to her that something must be 
done for poor Harry, whom she had left in the hands 
of a brother officer, in a state little short of distraction. 
She accordingly went in search of her brother, to re^ 
quest his advice and assistance, and found him, it be- 
ing nearly dark, preparing to set ont on his monimg's 
rida Upon hearing the situation of his brother-in-law 
he declared himself ready to assist Mr. Douglas as far 



254 MABBUGB. 

as he was able; but he had just leamed from bis 
people of business that bis own affaira were somewhat 
involveA Tbe late Earl had expended enormous 
Bums on political purposes ; Lady Lindore had run 
tbrougb a prodigious deal of money, he believed ; and 
he himself had some debts, amounting, he was told, 
to seventy thousand pounds. Lady Juliana was ail 
aghast at this information, which was delivered with 
the most perfect nonchalance by the Earl, while he 
amused himself with bis Newf oundland dog. Unable 
to conceal her disappointment at thèse effects of hei 
brotber's "liberality and generosity," Lady Juliana 
burat into tears. 

The Earl's sensibiUty was akin to his generosity; 
he gave money (or rather allowed it to be taken) 
freely when he had it. from indolence and easiness of 
temper; he hated the sight of distress in any in- 
dividual, because it occasioned trouble, and was, in 
short, a bore. He therefore made haste to relieve his 
sister's alarm by assuring her that thèse were mère 
trifles; that^ as for Douglas's affaira, he would order 
his agent to arrange every thing in his name ; hoped 
to bave the pleasure of seeing him at dinner ; recom- 
mended to his sister to bave some pheasant pies for 
luncheon ; and, calling Carlo, set out upon his ride. 

However much Lady Juliana had felt mortified 
and disappointed at leaming the state of her brother's 
finances, she began, by degrees, to extract the greatest 
consolation from the comparative insignifîcance of her 
own debts to those of the Earl ; and accordingly, in 



MABRIÀGK 255 

high spirits at this newly discovered and judicious 
source of comfoi*t, she despatched the foUowing note 
to lier husband : — 

"Dearest Henry — I hâve been received in the 
kindest manner imaginable by Frederick, and hâve 
been put in possession of my old apartments, which 
are so much altered, I should never hâve known thenu 
They were f umished by Lady Lindore, who really has 
a divine taste. I long to show you ail the delights of 
this aboda Frederick desired me to say that he e;x:- 
pects to see you hère at dinner, and that he will take 
charge of paying ail our bills whenever he gets money. 
Only think of his owing a hundred thousand pounds, 
besides ail papa's and Lady Lindore's debts ! I assure 
you I was almost ashamed to tell him of ours, they 
sounded so trifling; but it is quite a relief to find 
other people so much worse. Indeed, I alwayff thought 
it quite natural for us to run in debt, considering that 
we had no money to pay anything, while Courtland, 
who is as rich as a Jew, is so hampered. I shall 
expect you at eight, until when, adieu, mw caro, 

"Your JuuE. 

"I am quite wretched about you." 

This tender and consolatory billet Henry had not 
the satisfaction of receiving, having been arrested, 
shortly after his wife's departure, at the suit of 
Mr. Shagg, for the sum of two thousand some od4 
hundreds, for carnages jobbed, bought, exchanged, 
repaîred, retumed, eta ' 



256 MABBUaB. 

Lady Juliana's horror and dismay at ihe news of 
her husband's arrest were excessîva Her only ideaa 
of confinement were taken from those pictures of the 
Bastile and Inquisition that she had read 80 much 
of in French and German novels ; and the idea of a 
prison was indissolubly united in her mind with bread 
and water, chains and straw, dungeons and darkness. 
Gallons and selfish, therefore, as she might be, she 
was not yet so whoUy void of ail natural f eeling as to 
think with indifférence of the man she had once f ondly 
loved reduced to such a pitiable condition. 

Almost frantic at the phantom of her own création, 
she flew to her brother's apartment, and, in the wildest 
and most incohérent manner, besought him to rescue 
her poor Henry from chains and a dungeon. 

With some diffîculty Lord Gourtland at length 
apprehended the extent of his brother-in-law's mis- 
fortune ; and, with his usual scmg frMj smiled at his 
sister's simplicity, assured her the Ejng's Bench was 
the pleasantest place in the world ; that some of his 
own most particular friends were there, who gave 
capital dioners, and led the most désirable lives ima- 
ginable. 

*' And will he really not be f ed on bread and water, 
and wear chains, and sleep upon strawT' asked the 
tender wife in the utmost surprise and delight " Oh, 
then, he is not so much to be pitied, though I daresay 
he would rather get out of prison too." 

The Earl promised to obtain his release the follow- 
ing day, and Lady Juliana retumed to her toilet with 



Kâbbiàge. 257 

a mach higher opinion of prisons than she had ever 
entertained bef ora 

Lord Courtland, for once in bis life, was punctual 
to his promise; and even interested himself so 
thoroaglilj in Douglas's afifairs, though without in- 
qoiring into any particulars, as to take upon Iiimself 
the discharge of his debts, and to procure leave for 
him to exchange into a régiment of the line, then 
under orders for India. 

Upon hearing of this arrangement Lady Juliana's 
grief and despair, as usual, set ail reason at défiance. 
She wonld not sufifer her dear, dear Harry to leave 
her. She knew she could not live without him ; she 
was sure she should die; and Hany would be sea- 
sick, and grow so yellow and so ugly that when he 
came back she should neyer hâve any comf ort in him 
again. 

Heniy, who had neyer doubted her readiness to 
accompany him, immediately hastened to assuage her 
anguish by assuring her that it had always been his 
intention to take her along with him. 

That was worse and worse : she wondered how he 
could be so barbarous and absurd as to think of her 
leaying ail her frîends and going to live amongst 
sayage& She had done a great deal in living so long 
contentedly with him in Scotland; but she never 
could nor would make such another sacrifice. Be- 
sideS) she was sure poor Courtland could not do with- 
out her ; she knew he never would marry again ; and 
who would take care of his dear children, and educate 

VOL. L S n. 



258 MABRIAGE. 

them properly, if she did not ? It would be too xm* 
gratef ul to désert Frederick, after ail he had done for 
them. 

The pride of the man, as much as the afifection of 
the husband, was irritated by this résistance to his 
will ; and a violent scène of reproach and recrimina- 
tiou terminated in an etemal farewelL 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

** In âge, in infancyi from others* ald 
Is ail our hope ; to teach us to be kind, 
That nature's first, last lesson." 

YOTJHO. 

The neglected daughter of Lady Juliana Douglas 
experîenced aU the advantages naturally to be ex- 
pected from her change of situation. Her watchful 
aunt superintended the years of her infancy, and ail 
that a tender and judicious mother œiUd do — ail that 
most mothers think they do — she performed. Mrs. 
Douglas, though not a woman eîther of words or 
Systems, possessed a reflecting mind, and a heart 
warm with benevolence towards everything that had 
a being ; and ail the best feelings of her nature were 
excited by the little outcast thus abandoned by her 
unnatural parent. As she pressed the unconscîous 
babe to her bosom she thought how bleçt she should 
hâve been had a child of her own thus filled her 
arms ; but the reflection called f orth no selfish mur 
murs from her chastened spirit. While the tear of 
soft regret trembled in her eye, that eye was yet 
raised in gratitude to Heaven for having called f orth 
those delightful affections which might otherwise 
hâve slumbered in her heart 



260 HÀBBIA6E. 

Mrs. Douglas had read much, and reflected more, 
and many faultJess théories of éducation had floated 
in her mind. But her good sensé soon discovered 
how unavailing ail théories were whose foundations 
rested upon the inferred wisdom of the teacher, and 
how intricate and unwieldy must be the machineiy 
for the human mind where the human hand alone is 
to guide and uphold it To engraft into her infant 
soûl the purest prindples of religion was therefore 
the chief aîm of Mary's preceptress. The fear of God 
was the onlj restreint imposed upon her dawning 
intellect; and from the Bible alone was she taught 
the duties of morality — ^not in the f orm of a dry code 
of laws» to be read with a solemn face on Sundays, or 
leamed with weeping eyes as a week-day task — but 
adapted to her youthful capacity by judicious illus- 
tratioUy and familiarised to her taste by hearing its 
stories and precepts from the lips she best loyidd. 
Mr& Douglas was the friend and confidant of her 
pupil: to her ail her hopes and fears, wishes and 
dreads were confided; and the first effort of her 
reason was the discovery that to please her aunt she 
must study to please her Maker. 

*' L'inutilité de la vie des femmes est la premier 
source de leurs désordres. '' 

Mr& Douglas was fully convinced of the truth of 
this observation, and that the mère selfish caxes and 
vulgar bustle of lif e are not sufficient to satisfy the 
faornortal soûl, however they may serve to engross it 

A portion of Mary's time was therefore devoted to 



MARBIA6E. 261 

the dailj practioe of the great duties of lif e ; in admin- 
istering in some shape or other to the wants and mis- 
fortunes of her fellow- créatures, without requiring 
from them tihat their virtue should hâve been inuna- 
culate, or ezpectîng that their gratitude should be 
everlastmg. 

**It is better," thought Mrs. Douglas, "that we 
should sometimes be deceived by others than that we 
should leam to deceiye ourselves; and the chariiy 
and goodwill that is suffered to lie donnant^ or f eed 
itself on spéculative acts of beneficence, for want of 
proper objects to call it into use, will soon become 
the corroding rust that will destroy the best f eelings 
of our natura" 

But although Mary strenuously applied hersélf to 
the uses of life, its embellishments were by no means 
neglected She was happily endowed by nature ; and, 
under the judicious management of her aunt^ made 
rapid though unostentatious progress in the improye- 
ment of the talents committed to her cara Without 
having been blessed with the advantages of a dancing- 
master, her step was light, and her motions f ree %nd 
graceful ; and if her aunt had not been able to impart 
to her the favourite grâces of the most fashionable 
singer of the day, neither had she thwarted the efforts 
of her own natural taste in forming a style full of 
BÎmplicity and feeling. In the modem languages she 
was perf ectly skilled ; and if her drawings wanted the 
enliyening touches of the master to give them effect^ 
«s an atonement they displayed a perf ect knowledgo 



262 liABBIAGE. 

of tJie rules of perspective and the study of the 
bust. 

Ail thîs was, however, mère leather and prunella 
to the ladies of Glenf ern ; and many were the cogita- 
tions and consultations that took place on the subject 
of Mary's mismanagement According to their ideas 
there could be but one good System of éducation ; and 
that was the one that had been pursued with them, 
and through them transmitted to their nièces. 

To attend the parish church and remember the 
text; to observe who was diere i|,nd who was noi 
there; and to wind up the evening with a sermon 
stuttered and stammered through by one of the gîrls 
(the worst reader always piously selected, for the 
porpose of improving their reading), and particularly 
jiddriossed to the Laird, openly and avowedly snorîng 
m his arm-chair, though at every pause starting up 
with a peevish " Weel V — this was the sum total of 
their religions duties. Their moral virtues were much 
upon the same scale ; to knit stockings, scold servants, 
cément china, trim bonnets, lecture the poor, and 
look up to Lady Maclaughlan, comprised nearly their 
whole coda But thèse were the virtues of ripened 
years and enlarged understandings — what their pupils 
might hope to arrive at, but could not présume to 
meddle with. Their merits consisted in being com* 
pelled to sew certain large portions of white-work; 
learning to read and write in the worst manner; 
occasionally wearmg a œllar, and learning the notes on 
the spinnet Thèse acquirements, accompanied with 



MAÈRIAGE. 263 

a great deal of lecturing and fault-finding, sufficed for 
the first fifteen years ; when the two next^ passed at 
a provincial boarding-school, wôre supposed to impart 
every graceful accomplishment to which women could 
attaîn. 

Mrs. Douglas's method of conveying instruction, it 
may ea^ily be imagined, did not square with their 
ideas on that subject They did nothing themselves 
without a bustle, and to do a tbing quietly was to 
them tbe same as not doing it at ail — it could not be 
done, for nobody had ever beard of it. In sbort, like 
many other wortby people, tbeir ears were tbeir only 
organs of intelligence. Tbey believed everytbing tbey 
were told ; but unless they were told, they believed 
nothing. They had never heard Mra Douglas expati- 
ate on the importance of the trust reposed in her, or 
enjarge on the diffîcultîes of female éducation ; ergo^ 
Mr& Douglas could bave no idea of the nature of the 
duties she had undertaken. 

Their visits to Lochmarlie only served to confirm 
the f act Miss Jacky deponed that during the month 
she was there she never could discover when or how 
it was that Mary got her lessons ; luckily the child 
was quick, and had contrived, poor thing, to pick up 
things wonderf ully, nobody knew how, for it was really 
astonishing to see how little pains were bestowed upon 
her ; and the worst of it was, that she seemed to do 
just as she liked, for nobody ever heard her reproved, 
and everybody knew that young people never ^uld 
bave enough said to them. AU this diôered widely 



264 MABBIAGE. 

from the éclat of their S3rsteiii, and cotild not f aQ of 
caosing great disquîet to the sisters. 

^I déclare Fm quite confounded at ail this !" said 
Miss Grîzzy, at the conclusion of Miss Jacky's com- 
munication. ^'It really appears as if Mary, poor 
thing, was getting no éducation at ail ; and yet she 
cam, do things, toa I can't understand it; and it's 
yerj odd in Mrs. Douglas to allow her to be so much 
neglected, for certainly Mary's constantlj with herself ; 
which, to be sure, shows that she is very much spoilt ; 
for although our girls are as fond of us as I am sure 
any créatures can be, yet^ at the same time, thej are 
always very glad — which is quite natural — to run 
away from u&" 

^I think it's high time Mary had donc something 
fit to be seen," said Miss Nicky ; *' she is now sixteen 
past" 

**Most girls of Mary's time of life that erer I had 
anything to do with," replied Jacky, with a certain 
waye of the head, peculiar to sensible women, "had 
something to show bef ore her aga Bella had worked 
the globe long bef ore she was sixteen ; and Baby did 
her filigree tea-caddy the first quarter she was at 
Miss Macgowk's," glancing with triumph from the one 
which hung over the mantelpiece, to the other which 
stood on the tea-table, shrouded in a green bag. 

"And, to be sure," rejoined Grizzy, "although 
BetQr's screen did cost a great deal of money — that 
ciOi't be denied ; and her f ather certainly grudged it 
very much at the time— -there's no doubt of that; yet 



MAHRUGS. 265 

certainly it does her the greatest crédit^ and it is a 
great satîsfactîoii to us ail to hâve thèse things to show. 
I am sure nobody would ever think that ass was made 
of crape, and how naturally it seems to be eatîng the 
beautiful chenille thistle ! I déclare, I think the ass 
is as like an ass as anything can be !" 

"And as to Mary's drawing," continued the nar- 
rator of her deficiencies, " there is not one of them fit 
for framing : mère scratches with a chalk pencil — 
what any child might do/' 

«And to think." said Nicky, with indignation, 
"how little Mrs. Douglas seemed to think of the 
handsome coloured views the girls did at Miss Mac- 
gowk'a" 

" AU our gûrls hâve the greatest genius for drawing," 
observed Grizzy; "there can be no doubt of that; 
but it's a thousand pitiés, l'm sure, that none of them 
seem to like it. To be sure they say — what I dare 
say is very true — that they can't get such good paper 
as they got at Miss Macgowk's ; but they haye showed 
that they ca% do, for their drawings are quite astonish- 
ing. Somebody lately took them to be Mr. Touchup's 
own doing ; and l'm sure there couldn't be a greater 
compliment than that ! I represented ail that to Mrs. 
Douglas, and urged her very strongly to give Mary the 
benefit of at least a quarter of Miss Macgowk's, were, 
it only for the sake of her carriage ; or, at least^ to 
màke her wear our collar." 

This was the tenderest of ail thèmes, and bursts of 
BOirowful exclamations ensued The collar had long 



266 MARRIAGE. 

been a gallîng yoke upon their minds ; îts iron had 
entered into their very soûls; for it was a collar 
presented to the family of Glenfem by the wisest, 
virtuousest, best of women and of grandmothers, the 
the good Lady Gimachgowl ; and had been wom in 
regular rotation by every female of the family till 
now that Mra Douglas positively refused to subject 
Mary's pliant form to its thraldom. Even the Laird, 
albeit no connoisseur in any shapes saye those of his 
kine, was of opinion that since the thing was in the 
house it was a pity it should be lost. Not Ye&us's 
girdle even was supposed to confer greater charma 
than the Gimachgowl collar. 

"It's really most distressing 1" said Miss Grizzy to 
her friend Lady Maclaughlan. 

" Mary's back won't be worth a farthing ; and we 
hâve always. been quite famous for our backs." 

" Humph ! — that's the reason people are always so 
glad to see them, child." 

With regard to Mary*s looks, opinions were not so 
decided. Mrs. Douglas thought her, what she was, 
an élégant, interesting-looking girL The Laird, as he 
peered at her over his spectacles, pronounced her to 
be but a shilpit thing, though weel eneugh, consider- 
ing the ne'er-do-weels that were aught her. Mios 
Jacky opined that she would hâve been quite a 
différent créature had she been brought up like any. 
other girL Miss Grizzy did not know what to th'ink ; 
she certainly was pretty — ^nobody could dispute that 
At the same time, many people would prefer Bella's 



.^ 



MARRIAGE. 267 

looks ; and Baby was certainly uncommonly comely. 
Miss Nicky thought it was no wonder she looked pale 
sometimes. She never supped lier broth in a wise- 
like way at dinner ; and it was a shame to hear of a 
girl of Mary's âge being set up with tea to her break- 
fast, and wearing white pettiooats in winter — and 
sucli roads, too ! 

Lady Maclaughlan pronounced (and that was next 
to a spécial révélation) that the girl would be hand- 
some when she was f orty, not a day sooner ; and she 
would be élever, for her mother was a fool; and 
foolish mothers had always wise children, and vice 
versa, "and your mother was a very élever woman, 
girls — humph 1 " 

Thus passed the early years of the almost forgotten 
twin ; blest in the warm affection and mild authority 
of her more than mother. Sometimes Mrs. Douglas 
half formed the wish that her beloved pupil should 
mix in society and become known to the world ; but 
when she reflected on the dangers of that world, and 
on the little solid happiness its pleasures afford, she 
repressed the wish, and only prayed she might be 
allowed to rest secure in the simple pleasures she 
then enjoyed "Happiness is not a plant of this 
earth," said she to herself with a sigh ; " but God 
gives peace and tranquillity to the virtuous in ail 
situations, and under every trial Let me then strive 
to make Mary virtuous, and leave the rest to Him 
who alone knoweth what is good for us 1 " 



OHAPTER XXV. 

*> Th' immortal line in rare raccession reigns» 
The fortune of.the family remains, 
And grandsires* grandsons the long liât contains.** 

Dbydxn's VUrffO» 

** We are rach staff 

As dreams are madè on ; and our little life 

Is ronnded with a sleep." 

Tempest, 

But Mary's back and Mary^s complexion now ceased 
to be the first objects of interest at Glenf em ; for, to 
the inexpressible delight and amazement of the sisteis, 
Mrs. Douglas, after due waming, became the mother 
of a soa How this event had been brought about 
^thout the intervention of Lady Maclaughlan was 
past the powers of Miss Grizz/s compréhension. To 
the last moment they had been sceptical, for Lady 
Maclaughlan had shook her head and humphed when- 
ever the subject was mentioned. For several months 
they had therefore vibrated between their own san- 
guine hopes and their oracle's dîsheartening doubts ; 
and even when the truth was manif est, a sort of vague 
tremor took possession of their mind as to what Lady 
Maclaughlan would think of it 

** I déclare I don't very well know how to announce 



KABBIAGE. 269 

this happ7 event to Lady Maclaughlan," said Miss 
Grizzy, as slie sat in a numnating posture, wiiih lier 
pen in ber hand ; " it will give her the greatest plea- 
sure, I know that; slie has such a regard for our 
family, she would go any lengths for us. At the 
same time, everybody must be sensible it is a délicate 
matter to tell a persou of Lady Maclaughian's skill 
they bave been mistaken. l'm sure I don't know haw 
sbe may take it : and yet she can't suppose it will 
make any différence in our sentiments for ber. She 
must be sensible we bave ail the greatest respect for 
her opinion." 

'* The wisest people are sometimes mistaken," ob- 
served Miss Jacky. 

"Tm sure, Jacky, that's very true," said Grizzy, 
brightening up at the bril]ianc> of thia remark. 

"And it's better she should bave been mistaken 
than Mrs. Douglas," followed up Miss Nicky. 

" I déclare, Nicky, you are perfectly right ; and I 
shall just say so at once to Lady Maclaugblan." 

The epistle was f orthwith commenced by the en- 
lightened Grîzelda. Miss Joan applied herself to the 
study of " The Whole Duty of Man," which she was 
determined to make herself mistress of for the benefit 
of her grand -nephew; and Miss Nicholas fell to 
reckoning ail who could, would, or should be at the 
christening, that she might calculate upon the quan- 
tity of dreaming-iread that would be required. The 
younger ladies were busily engaged ia divers and 
Bundry disputes regarding the right to succession to a 



270 HÀRBIAGE. 

once-white lutestring négligée of their mother's, whîch 
three of iihem had laid their accounts with figuring 
io at the approaching célébration. The old gentleman 
was the only one in the family who took the least of 
the gênerai happines& He had got into a habit of 
being fretted about everything that happened, and he 
could not entirely divest himself of it even upon this 
occasion. His parsimonious tums, too, had consider- 
ably increased ; and his only criterion of judging of 
anything was according to what it would bring. 

" Sorra tak me if ane wadnae think, to hear ye, 
this was the first baim that e'er was born ! What's 
a* the fraize aboot, ye gowks V (to his daughters) — 
" a whingin get ! that'll tak mair oot o* f owk's pockets 
than e'er it'll pit into them ! Mony a guid profitable 
beast's been brought into the warld and ne'er a word 
in în'ts heed." 

Ail went on smoothly. Lady Maclaughlan testified 
no resentment Miss Jacky had the "The Whole 
Duty of Man" at her finger-ends; and Miss Nicky 
was not more severe than could hâve been expected, 
considering, as she did, how the servants, at Loch- 
marlie most be living at hack and manger. It had 
been decided at Glenfem that the infant heir to its 
conséquence could not with propriety be christened 
anywhere but at the seat of his forefathers. Mr. and 
Mrs. Douglas had good-humouredly yielded the point ; 
and, as soon as she was able for the change, the whole 
family took up their résidence for a season under the 
paternal roof. 



MAEKIAGE. 271 

Blissfol visions floated around the pillows of the 
happy spinsters tlie night preceding the christening, 
which were duly detailed at the breakfast-table the 
f oUowing moming. 

"I déclare I don*t know what to think of my 
dream," began Miss Grizzy. "I dreamt that Lady 
Maclaughlan was upon her knees to you, brother, to 
get you to take an emetic ; and just as she had mixed it 
up so nicely in some of our black-currant jelly, little 
Norman snatched it ont of your hand and ran away 
with it" 

"Tou're enengh to tum onybody's stamick wi' 
your nonsense," returned the Laird gruffly. 

"And I," said Miss Jacky, "thought I saw you 
standing in your shirt, brother, as straight as a rash, 
and good Lady Gimachgowl buckling her coUar upon 
you with her own hands." 

"I wish ye wadna doive me wi' your havers!" 
still more indignantly, and tuming his shoulder to 
the fair dreamer, as he continued to con over the 
newspaper. 

" And I," cried Miss Nicky, eager to get her mystic 
taie disclosed, " I thought, brother, I saw you take and 
throw ail the good dreaming-bread into the ash-hola" 

" By my troth, an* ye deserve to be thrown after't !" 
ezclaimed the exasperated Laird, as he quitted the 
room in high wrath, muttering to himself, '^ Hard case 
— canna get peace — eat my vittals — ^fules — tawpies — 
clavers !" etc. eta 

"I déclare I can't conçoive why Glenfem should 



272 MÀRBUGE. 

be 80 ill pleased at our dreams,'' said Mîss Grizzy. 
"Everybody knows dreams are always contrary; and 
even were it otherwise, l'm sure I should think no 
shanie to take an emetic, especially when Lady Mac- 
laughlan was at the trouble of mixing i,t up so nicely." 

" And we hâve ail wom good Lady Gimachgowrs 
coUar before now," said Miss Jacky. 

" I think I had the worst of it, that had ail my 
good dreaming-bread destroyed," added Miss Nicky. 

"Nothing coTild be more natural than your dreams," 
said Mrs. Douglas, *' considering how ail thèse subjects 
hâve engrossed yon for some time past You, Âunt 
Grizzy, may remember how désirons you were of 
administering one of Lady Maclaughlan's powders to 
my little boy yesterday ; and you, Âunt Jacky, made 
a point of tr3ring Lady Gimachgowrs collar upon 
Mary, to convince her how pleasant it was; while 
you, Aunt Nicky, had experienced a great alarm in 
supposing your cake had been bumed in the oyen. 
And thèse being the most vivid impressions you had 
received during the day, it was perfectly natural that 
they should hâve retained their influence during a 
portion of the night** 

The interprétations were received with high dis- 
dain. One and ail declared they never dreamed of 
«.y«nng «.t Aoi occux^d, «.dLrefore «xe visions 
of the night portended some eztraordinary good for- 
tune to zhe f amily in gênerai, and to little Norman in 
particular. 

*'The best fortune I can wish for him, and ail of 



MABBIAGE. 273 

OS, for this day is, that he should remain qniet during 
the ceremony," said his mother, who was not so elated 
as Lady Macbeth at the prédictions of the sisters. 

The christening party mustered strong; and the 
rites of baptism were duly performed by the Eev. 
Duncan MŒ)rone. The little Christian had been 
kissed by every lady in company, and pronoùnced by 
the matrons to be " a dainty little dotig r and by the 
misses to be "the sweetest lamb they had ever seen!" 
The cake and wine was in its progress round the com- 
pany; when, upon its being tendered to the old 
gentleman, who was sitting filent in his arm-chair, he 
abruptly exclaimed, in a most discordant Toice, '^Hey! 
what's a' this wastery for 1" — and ère an answer 
could be retumed his jaw dropped, his eyes fixed, 
and the Laird of Glenf em ceased to breathe I 



VOL. L 



CHAPTER XXVL 

** They say miracles are past ; and we hâve oui* philosophical 
persons to make modem and famîliar things supernatural and 
causeless. Hence it is that we make trifles of terrors ; ensconc- 
ing ourselves into seemîng knowledge, when we should submit 
ourselves to an unknown fear." — AlVs Well that Ends WeîL 

ÂLL attempts to reanîmate the lîfeless form proved 
unavailing; and the horror and consternation that 
reîgned in the castle of Glenfem may be imagined, 
but cannot be described. There is perhaps no feeling 
of our nature so vague, so complicated, so mysterious, 
as that with which we look upon the cold remains 
of our fellow-mortals. The dignity with which death 
invests even the meanest of his victims inspires us 
with an awe no living thing can creata The monarch 
on his throne is less awful than the beggar in his 
shroud The marble features — the powerless hand — 
the stiifened limbs — oh ! who can contemplate thèse 
with feelings that can be definedî Thèse are the 
mockery of ail our hopes and fears, our fondest love, 
our fellest hâte. Can it be that we now shrink with 
horror from the touch of that hand which but yester- 
day was f ondly clasped in our own 1 Is that tongue, 
whose accents even now dwell in our ear, for ever 



MARRIAGB. 276 

chaîned in the silence of death? Thèse black and 
heavy eyelids, are they for ever to seal up in darkness 
the eyes whose glance no earthly power could restrain î 
And the spirit which animated the clay, where is 
it nowî Is it wrapt in bliss, or dissolved in woe? 
Does it witness our grief, and share our sorrows î or 
is the mysterious tie that linked it with mortality for 
ever broken 1 Ând the remembrance of earthly scènes, 
are they indeed to the enfranchised spirit as the morn- 
ing dream, or the dew upon the early flowerî Reflec- 
tions such as thèse naturally arise in every breast 
Their influence is felt, though their import cannot 
always be expressed. The principle is in ail the same, 
however it may differ in its opérations. 

In the family assembled round the lifeless form 
that had so long been the centre of their domestic 
circle, grief showed itself under various forms. The 
cakn aùd manly sorrow of the son ; the saint-h'ke feel- 
ings of his wif e ; the youthful agitation of Mary ; the 
weak superstitions wailings of the sisters; and the 
loud uncontroUed lamentations of the daughters ; ail 
betokened an intensity of sufibring that arose from 
the same source, varied according to the différent 
channels in which it flowed. Even the stem Lady 
Maclaughlan was subdued to something of kindred 
f eeling ; and though no tears dropped from her eyes, 
she sat by her friends, and sought, in her owu way, 
to soften their affliction. 

The assembled guests, who had not yet beeii able 
to take their departure, remained in the drawing-room 



à7$ MASBIÀGS. 

in a sort of restless solemnity peculiar to seasosB of 
collatéral affliction, where ail seek to heighten the 
e£Pect npon others, and shif t the lesson from them- 
selvea Varions were the surmises and spéculations 
as to the cause of the awful transition that had just 
taken plaça 

''Glenfem was nae like a man that wad hae gaen 
aff in this gâte," said one. 

''I dinna ken/' said another; 'Tye notic'd a 
ehainge on Glenfem for a gey while noo." 

** I agrée wi' you, sir," said a third. " In my mind 
Glenf em's been droopin' very sair ever since the last 
tryst* 

**At Glenfem's time o' life ît's no surprîsînV 
remarked a f ourth, who felt perfectly secure of being 
fifteen years his junior. 

*' Glenfem was na that auld neither," retorted a 
fifth, whose conscience smote him with being several 
years his senior. 

''But he had a deal o' vexation frae his faemily," 
said an elderly bachelor. 

''Ye offen see a haie stoot man, like oor puir 
freend, gang like the snuff o' a cannel/' coughed up 
a pthisicky gentleman. 

" He was aye a tume, boss-looking man ever since 
I mind him," wheezed out a swoUen asthmatic figure. 

" An* he took nae care o* hirnseF," said the Laird 
of Petilechass. '^His diet was nae what it should 
hae beon at his time o' life. An' he was oot an' in, 
up an* doon, in a* wathers, wat an* dry.'* 



MABBXA6E. 277 

'^Glenfem's doings bad naethîng to du wî' his 
death,'' saîd an ancient gentlewoman with solemnily. 
'^They maun ken little wha ne'er heard the bodwoid 
of the family." Ând sbe repeated in Gaelio vrords 
to the f oUowing effect :— 

" When Lochdow shall tum to a lin,* 
In Glenfem ye*ll hear the din ; 
When frae Benenck they shool the sna', 
O'er Glenfem the leaves will fa' ; 
When foreign geer grows on Benenck tap^ 
Then the fir tree will be Glenfem's hap." 

'* An' noo, ma'am, will ye be sae gade as point oot 
the meanin' o' this freet/' said an incredulous-looking 
member of the company ; " for when I passed Loch- 
dow this momin' I neither saw nor heard o' a lin • 
an' frae this window we can a' see Benenck wi' his 
white night-cap on ; an' he wad hae little to do that 
wad tiy to shool it affl" 

'*It's neither o' the still water nor the stay brae 
that the word was spoke," replied the dame, with a 
disdainful frown ; " they tak' nae part in our doings : 
but kent ye nae that Lochdow hirnsel' had tined his 
s^t in a cataract; an' is nae there dule an' din 
eneuch in Glenfem the day ) An' kent ye nae that 
Benenck had his auld white pow shaven, an' that 
he's gettin' a jeezy frae Edinburgh î — an' l'se warran' 
hell be in his braw wig the very day that Glenf em'D 
be laid in his deal coffin." 

The company admitted the application was too 

^ Gataract 



278 MARRIAGE. 

dcwe to be resîsted ; but the same sceptîc (who, by- 
the-bye, was only a low country merchant, elevated 
by purchase to the dignity of a Highland laird) was 
deen to shrug hîs shoulders, and heard to make some 
aneering remarks on the days of second-sights and 
such superstitious nonsense being pa.t Ihis was 
instantly laid hold of ; and amongst many others of 
the same sort, the truth of the following story was 
attested by one of the party, as having actually 
occurred in his famîly withîn his own remembrance. 

" As Duncan M*Crae was one evening descending 
Benvoilloich, he perceived a funeral procession in the 
vale beneath. He was greatly surprised, not having 
heard of any death in the country ; and this appeared 
to be the burial of some person of conséquence, from 
the number of the attendants. He made ail the 
haste he could to get down; and as he drew near 
he counked ail the lairds of the country except my 
father, Sir Murdoch. He was astonished at this, till 
he recoUected that he was away to the low country 
to his cousin's marriage ; but he f elt curions to know 
who it was, though some unaccountable feeling pre- 
vented him from mixing with the foUowers. He 
therefore kept on the ridge of the hill, right over 
their heads, and near enough to hear them speak; 
but although he saw them move their lips, no sound 
reached his ear. He kept along with the procession 
în this way till it reached the Castle Dochaxt burying- 
ground, and there'it stopped. The evening was close 
ind warm, and a thick mist had gathered in the glen, 



MARRIAGB. 279 

while the tops of the hills shone like gold. Not a 
breath of air was stirring, but the trees that grew 
round the burying-ground waved and soughed, and 
some withered leaves were swirled round and round, 
as if by the wind. The company stood a while to 
rest, and then they proceeded to open the iron gâtes 
of the burying-ground ; but the lock was rusted and 
would not open. Then they began to pull down 
part of the wall, and Duncan thought how angry his 
master would be at this, and he raised his voice and 
flhouted and hallooed to them, but to no purposa 
Nobody seemed to hear him. At last the wall was 
taken down, and the coffin was lifted over, and just 
then the sun broke out, and glinted on a new-made 
grave; and as they were laying the coffin in it, it 
gave way, and disclosed Sir Murdoch himself in his 
dead clothes; and then the mist grew so thick, 
Duncan could see no more, and how to get home he 
knew not ; but when he eQtered his own door he was 
bathed in sweat, and white as any corpse; and ail 
that he could say was, that he had seen Castle 
Dochart's burying. 

"The following day," continued the narrator, "he 
was more composed, and gave the account you hâve 
now heard ; and three days after came the intelligence 
of my father's death. He had dropped down in a fit 
that very evening, when entertaining a large company 
in honour of his cousin's marriage ; and that day week 
his funeral passed through Glenvalloch exactly as 
described by Duncan MHJrae, with ail the particulars; 



280 MABBIAGB. 

The gâtes of the burjing-ground could not be opened ; 
part of tihe wall was taken down to admit the coffîn, 
which received some înjury, and gave way as they 
were placing it in the grave." 

Ëven the low-country infidel was sîlenced by the 
solemnity of this story ; and soon after the company 
dispersed, every one panting to be the first to cîrcn- 
late the intelligence of Glenfem's deatk 

But soon — oh, how soon ! " dies in human hearts 
the thought of death T' Even the paltry détail which 
death créâtes serves to detach our minds from the 
cause itself. So it was with the family of Glenfem. 
Their light did not "shine inward;" and after the 
first bùrst of sorrow their ideas fastened with avidity 
on ail the paraphemalia of affîction. Mr. Douglas, 
indeed, f ound much to do and to direct to be done. 
The elder ladies began to calculate how many yards 
of broad hemming would be required, and to form a 
muster-roll of the company ; with this improvement^ 
that it was to be ten times as numerous as the one 
that had assembled at the christening; while the 
young ones busied their imaginations as to the effect 
of new moumings — a luiniry to them hitherto un- 
known. Mrs. Douglas and Mary were differently 
affected. Beligîon and reflection had taught the 
former the enviable lesson of possessing her soûl in 
patience under every trial; and while she inwardly 
moumed the f ate of the poor old man who had been 
thus suddenly snatched from the only world that ever 
had engaged bis thoughts, her outward aspect was 



MABRIAGE. 281 

calm and serene. The impression made upon Maiy's 
feelings was of a more powerful nature. She had 
witnessed suffering, and watched by sick-beds; but 
death, and death in so terrifie a f orm, was new to her. 
She had been standing by her grandfather's chair — 
her head was bent to his — ^her hand rested upon his, 
when, by a momentary convulsion, she beheld the last 
dread change — ^the living man transf ormed into the 
lifeless corpse. The countenance but now fraught 
with lif 6 and human thoughts, in the twinkHng of an 
eye was covered with the shades of death ! It was 
in yain that Mary prayed and reasoned and strove 
against the feelings that had been thus powerfully 
excited. One obiect alone possessed her imagination 
-«.a image of her granLher dying_d^; his 
grim f eatures, his ghastly yisage, his convulsive grasp, 
were ever présent^ by day and by night Her nerrous 
System had received a shock too powerful for ail thé 
strength of her understanding to contend witL Mrs. 
Douglas sought by every means to soothe her feelings 
and divert her attention ; and flattered herself that a 
short time would allay the perturbation of her youth- 
fol emotîon& 

Five hundred persons, horse and foot^ high and 
low. maie and female, graced «he obsequies of the 
Lahrd of Glenf era Benenck was there in his new 
wig, and the autumnal leaves dropped on the coffin as 
it was borne slowly along the vale ! 



CHAPTER XXVH 

"It is no diminution, but a recommendation of human natare, 
that, in some instances, passion gets the better of reason, and 
ail that we can think is impotent against half what we feel." — 
Spedaior, 

" Liée is a mingled yam ; *' f ew of its afflictions but 
are accompanied with some aUeviation — ^none of its 
blessings that do not bring some alloy. like most 
other events that long hâve formed the object of 
yeaming and almost hopeless wishes, and on which 
hâve been built the fairest structure of human felicity, 
the arrivai of the young heir. of Glenfem produced 
a less extraordinary degree of happiness than had 
been anticipated. The melancholy event which had 
marked the first cérémonial of his hfe had cast its 
gloom alike on aU nearly connected with him ; and 
when time had dispeUed the clouds of récent moum- 
ing, and restored the moumers to their habituai train 
of thought and action, somewhat of the novelty which 
had given him such lively interest in the hearts of the 
sisters had subsided. The distressing conviction, too, 
more and more forced itself upon them, that their 
advice and assistance were likely to be wholly over- 
looked in the nurture of the infant mind and manage* 



MARRIAGE. 28<> 

"ment of the thriving frame of their little nephew. 
Their active énergies, therefore, driven back to the 
accustomed channels, after many murmurs and severe 
struggles, again revolved in the same sphère as bef ore. 
True, they sighed and moumed for a time, but soon 
f oond occupation congenial to their nature in the little 
departments of life— dressing crape; reviving blaok 
silk ; converting narrow hems into broad hems ; and 
in short, who so busy, who so important, as the ladies 
of Glenf em 1 As Madame de Staël, or de Something 
says, " they fulfilled their destinies." Their walk lay 
amongst threads and pickles ; their sphère extended 
from the garret to the pantry; and often as they 
sought to diverge from it, their instinct always led 
them to retum to it, as the tract in which they were 
destined to mov& There are créatures of the same 
sort in the maie part of the création, but it is foreign 
to my purpose to describe them at présent Neither 
are the trifling and insignificant of either sez to be 
treated with contempt, or looked upon as useless by 
those whom God has gif ted with higher powera In 
the arrangements of an all-wise Providence there is 
nothing created in vain. Every link of the vast chain 
that embraces création helps to hold together the 
varions relations of life; and ail is beautiful gradation, 
from the human vegetable to the glorious archangeL 

If patient hope, if unexulting joy, and chastened 
anticipation, sanctifying a mother's love, could hâve 
secured her happiness, Mrs. Douglas would hâve found, 
in the smiles of her infant, ail the comfort her virtua 



284 MABBIAGB. 

deservecL But she stîll had to drink of tibat cap of 
Bweet and bîtter, which must bathe the lips of ail 
who breathe the breath of lif a 

Whîle the instinct of a parent's love warmed her 
heart, as she pressed her infant to her bosom, the 
sadness of affectionate and rational solicitude stifled 
eyery sentiment of pleasure as she gazed on ihe 
altered and drooping form of her adopted daughter — 
of the child who had abeady repaid the cares that 
had been lavîshed on her, and in whom she descried 
the promise of a plenteoos harvest from the good seed 
she had sowd. Thongh Mary had been healthy in 
childhood, her constitution was naturallj délicate, and 
she had latterlj outgrown her strength. The shock 
she had sustained by her grandfather's death, thus 
operating on a weakened frame, had produced an 
effect apparently most alarming; and the efforts ahe 
made to exert herself only served to ezhaust her. 
She felt ail the watchful solicitude, the tender 
anxieties of her aunt, and bitterly reproached herself 
with not better repaying thèse exertions for her 
happiness. A thousand times she tried to analyse 
and extirpate the saddening impression that weighed 
upon her heart 

"It is not sorrow," reasoned she with herself 
" that thus oppresses me ; for though I reverenced my 
grandfather, yet the loss of his society has scarcely 
been felt by me. It cannot be f ear — the f ear of death ; 
for my soûl is not so abject as to confine its desires to 
tins sublunary scena What, then, is this mysterious 



MABRIAGE. 285 

dread ihat bas taken possession of me ? Why do I 
sufifer my mind to suggest to me images of horror, 
instead of visions of blîss? Whj can I not^ as 
f ormerly, picture to myself the beauty and the bright- 
ness of a soûl casting oiF mortality î Why must the 
convulsed grasp, the stifled groan, the glaring eye, 
for ever come betwixt heaven and me î" 

Alas! Mary was unskilled to answer, Hers was 
ihe season for f eeling, not for reasoning. She knew 
not ihat hers was the struggle of imagination strivmg 
tomaintainitsascendencyoverreaUty. Shehadheard 
and read, and thought and talked of death; but it was 
of death in its fairest f orm, in its softest transition : 
and the veil had been abruptly tom from her eyes ; the 
gloomy pass had suddenly disclosed itself before her, 
not strewed with flowers but shrouded in horrors. 
Like ail persons of sensibility, Mary had a disposition 
to view everything in a beau idéal : whether that is a 
boon most fraught with good or ill it were difficult to 
Ascertain. While the delusion lasts it is productive 
of pleasure to its possessor; but oh! the thousand 
aches that heart is destined to endure which clings to 
the stability and relies on the permanency of earthly 
happiness i But the youthful heart must ever remain 
a stranger to this saddening trutL Expérience only 
can convince us that happiness is not a plant of this 
world ; and that, though many an eye hath beheld its 
blossoms no mortal hand hath ever gathered its fruits. 
This, then, was Mary's first lesson in what is called 
the knowledge of lif e, as opposed to the beau idéal of 



286 MAREIAGiL 

a young and ardent imagination in love with life, 
and luxuriating in its own happiness. And, upon such 
a mind it could not fail of producing a powerful 
impression. 

The anguish Mrs. Douglas experienced as she wit- 
nessed the changing colour, lifeless step, and forced 
smile of her darling élève was not mitigated by the 
good sensé or sympathy of those aroimd her. While 
Mary had prospered under her management^ in the 
consciousness that she was fulfilling her duty to the 
best of her abilities, she could listen with placid cheer- 
f ulness to the broken hints of disapprobation, or forced 
good wishes for the success of her new-f angled schemes, 
that were levelled at her by the sisters. But now, 
when her cares seemed defeated, it was an additional 
thom in her heart to bave to endure the commonplace 
wisdom and self-gratulations of the almost exult- 
ing aunts ; not that they had the slightest intention 
of woimding the feelings of their nièce, whom they 
really loved, but the temptation was irrésistible of 
proving that they had been in the right and she in 
the wrong, especially as no such acknowledgment had 
yet been extorted from her. ' 

" It is nonsense to ascribe Mary's dwinîng to her 
grandfather^s death," said Miss Jacky. " We were ail 
nearer to him in propinquity than she was, and none 
of our hçalths bave suffered." 

"And there's bis own daughters," added Miss 
Grizzy, " who, of course, must hâve felt a great deal 
more than anybody else — there can be no doubt of 



MARRUGE. 287 

that — ^such sensible créatures as them must feel a 
great deal; but yet you see how they hâve got up 
their spirits— rm sure it's wonderf ul 1 " 

" It shows their sensé and the effects of éducation," 
said Miss Jacky. 

"Girls that sup their porridge will always eut a 
good figure," quoth Nicky. 

" With their fine feelings l'm sure we hâve ail 
reason to be thankf ul that they hâve been blest with 
such hearty stomachs," observed Miss Grizzy; "if 
they had been délicate, like poor Mary's, l'm sure I 
déclare I don't know what we would hâve done ; for 
certainly they were ail most dreadf ully affected at their 
excellent father's death; whieh was quite natural, poor 
things ! l'm sure there's no pacifying poor Baby, and 
even yet, neither Bella nor Betsey can bear to be left 
alone in a dark room. Tibby bas to sleep with them 
still every night ; and a lighted candie too — which is 
much to their crédit — and yet l'm sure it's not with 
reading. l'm certain — indeed, I think there's no doubt 
of it — ^that reading does young people much harm. It 
puts things into their heads that never would hâve 
been there but for books. I déclare, I think reading's 
a very dangerous thing ; l'm certain ail Mary's bad 
health is entirely owing to reading. You know we 
always thought she read a great deal too much for 
her good." 

"Much dépends upon the choice of books," said 
Jacky, with an air ofT;he most profound wisdom. 
" Fordyce's Sermons and the History of Scotland are 



288 MABRIAOIC 

two of the very f ew books / would put into the hands 
of a yoiing womaa Our girls hâve read little else," 
— cafiting a look at Mrs. Douglas, who was calmlj 
pursuing her work in the midst of thîs shower of 
darts ail levelled at her. 

"To be sure," retumed Grîzzy, "ît îs a thousand 
pitiés ihat Mary has been allowed to go on so long ; 
not^ Fm sure, that any of us mean to reflect upon you, 
my dear Mrs. Douglas ; for of course it was ail owing 
to your ignorance and inexpérience; and that, you 
know, you could not help ; for it was not your f ault ; 
nobody can blâme you. Fm certain you would hâve 
done what is right îf you had only known better; 
but of course we must ail know much better than 
you ; because, you know, we are ail a great deal older, 
and especially Lady Maclaughlan, who has the greatest 
expérience in the diseases of old men especially, and 
infants. Indeed it has been the study of her life 
almost; for, you know, poor Sir Sampson is never 
well ; and I dare say, if Mary had taken some of her 
niée worm-lozenges, which certainly cured Duncan 
M'Nab's wife's daughter*s little girl of the jaundice, 
and used that valuable growing embrocatîon, which 
we are ail sensible made Baby a great deal fatter, I 
dare say there would hâve been nothing the matter 
with her to-day." 

''Mary has been too much accustomed to spend 
both her time and money amongst idle vagrants»" 
Baid Nicky. 

"Economy of both," subjoined Jacky, with «n air 



HÀSBIAGIB. 289 

of humility, *'I confess I hâve ever been accustomed 
to consider as virtues. Thèse handsome respectable 
new bonnets" — \o6\àn.gfrom Mrs. Douglas — " that our 
girls got just before their poor father's death, were 
entirely the fruits of their own savings." 

** And I déclare/' saîd Grizzy, who did not ezcel in 
inuendos, *'I déclare, for my part — ^although at the 
same time, my dear nièce, Fm certain you are far from 
intending it — I really think it's very disrespectful to 
Sir Sampson and Lady Maclaughlan, in anybody, and 
especially such near neighbours, to give more in charity 
than they do ; for you may be sure they give as much 
as they think proper, and they must be the best judges, 
and can afford to give what they please; for Sir 
Sampson could buy and sell ail of us a hundred tîmes 
over if he liked. It's long since the Lochmarlie estate 
was called seven thousand a year ; and besides that 
there's the Birkendale property and the Glenmayis 
estate, and Fm sure I can't tell you ail what; but 
ihere's no doubt he's a man of immense fortune." 

Well it was known and frequently was it discussed, 
the iniquit][ of Mary being allowed to waste her tîme 
and squander her money amongst the poor, instead 
of being taught the practical virtues of making her 
own gowns, and of hoarding up her pocket-money for 
some selfish gratification. 

In coUoquies such as thèse day after day passed 
on without any visible improvement taking place in 
her health. Only one remedy suggested itself to 
Mm Douglas, and that was to remove her to the 

VOL. LU x. 



290 KABSIAGE. 

souih of England for the winter. Milder air and 
change of scène she had no doubt would prove effica- 
cious ; and her opinion was confirmed by that of the 

celebrated Dr. , who, having been summoned to 

the Laird of Pettlechass, had paid a visit at Glenfem 
m passarst. How so désirable an event was to be 
accomplished was the difficnlty. By the death of hîs 
father a variety of business and an extent of farming 
had devolved upon Mr. Douglas which obliged him 
to fiz his résidence at Glenfem, and rendered it im- 
possible for him to be long absent from it Mrs. 
Douglas had engaged in the duties of a nurse to her 
little boy, and to take him or leave him was equally 
out of the question. 

In this dîlemma the only resource that ofTered was 
ihat of sending Mary for a f ew months to her mother. 
True, it was a painful necessity; for Mrs. Douglas 
seldom heard from her sister-in-law, and when she 
did, her letters were short and cold. She sometîmes 
desired "a kiss to her (Mrs. Douglas's) little girl,'' 
and once, in an extraordinary fit of good humour, 
had actually sent a locket with her hair in a letter by 
post, for which Mrs. Douglas had to pay something 
more than the value of the présent. This was ail 
that Mary knew of her mother, and the rest of her 
f amily were still greater strangers to her. Her father 
remaîned in a distant station in India, aad wa£ seldom 
heard of . Her brother was gone to sea ; and though 
ahe had written repeatedly to her sister, her letters 
lemained unnoticed. Under thèse circumstancea 



MARBIAGE. 291 

there was somQthîng revolting in the idea of obtrad- 
ing Mary upon the notice of her relations, and trust- 
ing to their Jdndness even for a few months; yet 
her health, perhaps her life, was at stake, and Mrs. 
Douglas felt she had scarcely a right to hesitata 

" Mary has perhaps been too long an aUen from 
her own family," said she to herself ; "this will be a 
means of her becoming acquaînted with them, and of 
introducing her to that sphère in which she is probably 
destined to walk. Under her imcle's roof she will 
surely be safe, and in the society of her mother and 
sister she cannot be unhappy. New scènes will give 
a stimulus to her mind ; the necessity of exertion wiU 
brace the languid faculties of her soûl, and a few 
short months, I trust, will restore her to me such and 
even superior to what she was. Why, then, should I 
hesitate to do what my conscience tells me ought to 
be done ? Alas ! it is because I selfishly shrink from 
the pain of séparation, and am unwilling to relinquish, 
even for a season, one of the many blessings Heaven 
has bestowed upon me." And Mrs. Douglas, noble 
and disinterested as ever, rose superior to the weak- 
ness that she felt was besetting her. Mary listened 
to her communication with a throbbing heart and 
eyes suffused with tears ; to part from her aunt was 
agony ; but to behold her mother — she to whom she 
owed her existence, to embraie a sister too — and one 
for whom she felt ail those mysterious yeamings 
which twins are said to entertain towards each other 

)h, there was rapture in the thought, and Mary's 



292 UABSTÀGE. 

buoyant heart fluctuated between the extrêmes of 
anih and deHght 

The vénérable sîsters receîyed the intelligence with 
much surprise : they did not know very well what to 
say about it ; there was much to be saîd both for and 
against it Lady Maclaughlan had a high opinion of 
English air ; but then they had heard the morals of 
the people were not so good, and there were a great 
many dissipated young men in England ; though, to 
be sure, there was no denying but the minerai waters 
were excellent; and, in short, it ended in Miss Grizzy's 
sitting down to concoct an epistle to Lady Mac- 
laughlan; in Miss Jacky's beginning to draw up a 
code of instructions for a young woman upon her 
entrance into life; and Miss Nicky hoping that îf 
Mary did go, she would take care not to bring back 
any extravagant English notions with her. The 
younger set debated amongst themselves bow many 
of them would be invited to accompany Mary to Eng- 
land, and from thence f ell to disputîng the possession 
of a brown haïr trunk, with a flourished D in brass 
letters on the top. 

Mrs. Douglas, with repressed feelings, set about 
offering the sacrifice she had planned, and in a letter 
to £ady Juliana, descriptive of her daughter's situa- 
tion, she sought to excite her tendemess without 
creating an alarm. How far she succeeded will be 
seen hereafter. In the meantime we must take a 
rétrospective glance at the last seventeen years of her 
Ladyship's lif & 



OHAPTER XXVm 

Eer "onlj labonr was to Idll the time ; 
And labour dire it is, and weary woe.** 

CaUU of ïndi lencê. 

Years had rolled on amîdst heartless pleasures and joy- 
lésa amusements, but Lady Juliana was made neither 
the wiser nor the better by added years and increased 
expérience. Time had in vain tumed his glass bef ore 
eyes still dazzled with the gaudy allurements of the 
world, for she took "no note of time** but as the 
thîng that was to take her to the Opéra and the Park, 
and that sometimes hurried her excessively, and some- 
times bored her to deatL At length she was com- 
pelled to abandon her chase after happiness in the 
only sphère where she believed it was to be founA 
Lord Gourtland's declining health uniitted him for 
the dissipation of a London life ; and, by the advice 
of his physician, he resolved upon retiring to a country 
seat which he possessed in the vicinity of BatL Lady 
Juliana was in despair at the thoughts of this sudden 
wrench from what she termed "life ;" but she had no 
resource ; for though her good-natured husband gave 
her the whole of General Cameron's allowance, that 
scarcely senred to keep her in clothes; and though 



294 MABBIAGE. 

her brother was perfectly willing that she and her 
children should occapy apartments in his house, yet 
he would hâve been equally acquiescent had sbe pro- 
posed to remove from it Lady Juliana had a sort of 
instinctive knowledge of this, which prevented her 
from breaking ont into open remonstrance. She 
therefore contented herself with being more than 
usuaUy peevish and irascible to her servants and 
children, and talking to her frîends of the prodigious 
sacriiice she was about to make for her brother and 
his family, as if it had been the cutting off of a hand 
or the plucking ont of an eye. To hâve heard her, 
any one unaccustomed to the hyperbole of fashionable 
language would hâve deemed Botany Bay the nearest 
possible point of destination. Partîng from her 
fashionable acquaintances was tearing herself from 
ail she loved ; quitting London was bidding adieu to 
the world. Of course there could be no society where 
she was going, but still she would do her duty ; she 
would not désert dear Frederick and his poor children ! 
In short, no martyr was ever led to the stake with 
half the notions of heroism and self-devotion as those 
with which Lady Juliana stepped into the barouche 
that was to conduct her to Beech Park. In the society 
of piping bullfinches, pink Canaries, gray parrots, gold 
fish, green squirrels, Italian greyhounds, and French 
poodles, she sought a refuge from despair. But even 
thèse varied charms, after a while, failed to please. 
The bullfinches grew hoarse; the Canaries tumed 
brown; the parrots became stupid; the gold fish 



MÀBBIAGE. 295 

wonld not eat; ihe squirrels were cross; tibe dogs 
f ought ; even a shell grotto that was constractmg f ell 
down ; and by the time the aviary and conservatorj 
were filled, they had lost theîr interest The children 
were the next sabjects for her Ladyship's ennui to 
discharge itself upon. Lord Gourtiand had a son 
some years older, and a daughter nearly of the same 
âge as her own. It suddenly occurred to her that 
they must be educated, and that she would educate 
the gîrls herseli As the first step she engaged two 
goveïmesses, French and Italian ; modem treatises on 
the subject of éducation were ordered from London, 
looked at, admired, and arranged on gilded shelves 
and sofa tables ; and could their contents hâve exhaled 
with the odours of theîr Eussia leather bindings, Lady 
Juliana's dressing-room would hâve been what Sir 
Joshua Beynolds says every seminary of learning isj 
" an atmosphère of fioatîng knowledge." But amidst 
this splendid display of human lore, THE bock found 
no place. She had heard of the Bible, however, and 
even knew it was a book appoînted to be read in 
churches, and given to poor people, along with Eum- 
f ord soup and flannel shirts ; but as the rule of lif e, 
as the book that alone could make wise unto salyation, 
this Christian parent waa ignorant as the Hottentot 
or Hindoo. 

Three da3r8 beheld the rise, progress, and décline 
of Lady Juliana's whole System of éducation ; and it 
would hâve been well for the children had the trust 
been delegated to those better qualifîed to discharge 



296 MAEBIÂGE. 

il Bat neither of the preceptresses was better skîlled 
in the 011I7 tnie knowledga Signora Cicîanai was a 
bigoted Catholic, whose faith hung upon her beads, 
and Madame Orignon was an espit forte, who had no 
faith in anything but le plaisir. But the Signora's 
singîng was heavenly, and Madame's dancing was 
divine, and what lacked there more? 

So passed the first years of beings traming for 
immortality. The children insensibly ceased to be 
children, and Lady Juliana would hâve beheld the 
increasing height and beauty of her daughter with 
extrême disapprobatîon, had not that beauty, by 
awàkening her ambition, aiso ezcited her affection, if 
lihe term affection could be applied to that heterogene- 
ous mass of feelings and propensities Uiat " shape had 
none distingoishabla" Lady Juliana had fallen into 
an error very common with wiser heads than hers — 
that of mistaking the effisd for the caiise, She looked 
no farther than to her union with Henry Douglas for 
the f oundation of ail her unhappiness ; it never once 
occurred to her that her marriage was only the con- 
séquence of something previously wrong ; she saw not 
the headstrong passions that had impelled her to 
please herself — ^no matter at what price. She thought 
not of the want of principle, she blushed not at the 
want of delicacy, that had led her to deceive a parent 
and elope with a man to whose character she was 
a total stranger. She therefore considered herself as 
having fallen a victim to love ; and could she only 
save her daughter from a similar error she might yet 



HARSIAOS. â97 

by her means retrieve her f allen f ortuna To implant 
principles of reUgion and virtae in her mind was not 
within the compass of her own ; but she oould scoff at 
every pure and gênerons affection ; she could ridicule 
eyery disinterested attachment ; and she could expa- 
tîate on the never-fading joys that attend on wealth 
and tîties, jewels and équipages ; and ail this she did 
in the belief that she was actîng the part of a most 
wise and tender parent! The seed, thus carefully 
sown, promised to bring forth an abundant harvest 
At eighteen Adélaïde Douglas was as heartless and 
ambitions as she was beautif ul and accomplished ; but 
the surface was covered with flowers, and who would 
hâve thought of analysing the soil f 

It sometimes happens that the very means used 
with success in the formation of one character pro- 
duce a totally opposite effect upon another. The 
mind of Lady Emily Lindore had undergone ezactly 
the same process in its formation as that of her cousin ; 
yet in ail things they differed. Whether it were the 
independence of high birth, or the pride of a mind 
conscious of its own powers, she had hitherto resisted 
the sophistty of her govemesses and the solecisms of 
her aunt But her notions of right and wrong were 
too crude to influence the gênerai ténor of her lif e, or 
operate as restraints upon a naturally high spirit and 
impetuous temper. Not ail the united efforts of her 
preceptresses had been able to form a manner for 
their pupil; nor could their authority restrain her 
from saying what she thought^ and doing what she 



298 MARBIAGE. 

pleased ; and, in spîte of both precept and example, 
Lady Emily remaîned as insnpportably natoral and 
sincère as she was beauidful and piquante. At six 
years old she had dedared her intention of marzying 
her cousin Edward Douglas, and at eighteen her words 
were little less equiyocaL Lord Gourtiand, who never 
disturbed himself about anything, was rather diverte 
with this juvénile attachment ; and Lady Juliana, wb 
cared little for her son, and still less for her nîi 
only wondered how people could be such f ools as 
think of marrying for love, after she had told the 
how misérable it would make them. 







CHAPTEE XXIX. 

** Unthonght of fraîlties cheat us in the wise ; 
The fool lies hid in inconsi8tencie&" 

Pops. 

Sdgh were the female members of the family to whom 
Mary was about to be introdacecL In her mother's 
heart she had no place, for of her absent husband and 
neglected daughter she seldom thought; and theîr 
letters were scarcely read, and rarelj answered, Even 
good Miss Grizzy's elaborate epistle, in which were 
curiously entwined the death of her brother and the 
birth and chrîstening of her grand-nephew, in a truly 
Gordîan manner, remaîned disentangled. Had her 
Ladyship only read to the middle of the seventh page 
she would hâve leamed the indisposition of her 
daughter, with the varions opinions thereupon; but 
poor Miss Grizzy'a laboura were yain, for her letter 
remains a dead letter to this day. Mrs. Douglas was 
theref ore the first to convey the unwelcome intelligence, 
and to suggest to the mind of the mother that her 
alienated daughter stîll retaîned some claims upon her 
care and affection ; and although this was done with 
ail the tendemess and delicacy of a gentle and enlight- 



300 MÀBRJAGK 

ened mînd, ît called îotÛl the most bitter indignation 
from Lady Juliana. 

She àlmost raved at what she termed the base 
ingratitude and hypocrisy of lier sister-in-law. After 
the sacrifice she had made in giving up her child to 
her when she had none of her own, it was a pretty 
retum to send her back only to die. But she saw 
through it She did not believe a word of the girl's 
iUness ; that was a trîck to get rid of her. Kbw they 
had a child of their own, they had no use for hers ; 
but she was not to be made a f ool of in such a way, 
and by such people, eta etc. 

^'U Mrs. Douglas is so vile a woman,"' said the 
proYohing Lady Emily, ''the sooner my cousin is 
taken from her the better." 

"You don't understand thèse things, Enûly," re 
tumed her aunt impatiently. 

«What things î" 

«The trouble and annoyance it will occasion me 
to take charge of the girl at this time." 

« Why at this time more than at any otherl^ 

« Absurd, my dear ! how can you ask so f oolish a 
question f Don't you kno w that you and Adelaide are 
both to bring out this winter, and how can I possibly 
do you justice with a dying girl upon my hands?" 

«I thought you suspected it was ail a trick," con- 
tinued the persecutmg Lady Emily. 

" So I do ; I haven't the least doubt of it, The 
whole story is the most improbable stuff I evez 
heard." 



HABBIAQB. SOI 

''Then you will hâve leiss trouble than you 
expect" 

''Bat I hâte to be made a dupe of, and imposed 
upon by low cunniiig. If Mrs. Douglas had told me 
candidly she wished me to take the gîrl, I would hâve 
thonght nothing of it ; but I can't bear to be treated 
like a fooL" 

"I don't see anythmg at ail unbeooming in Mr& 
Doaglas's treatment" 

** Then what eau I do with a girl who haa been 
educated in Scotland) She must be vulgar — ail 
Scotchwomen are sa They hâve red hands and 
rough Yoices ; they yawn, and blow their noses, and 
talk, and laugh loud, and do a thousand shocking 
thinga. Then, to hear the Scotch brogue — oh, 
heavens 1 I should expire every time she opened her 
mouth!" 

" Ferhaps my sister may not speàk so very broad/' 
kindly suggested Adélaïde in her sweetest accents. 

''Tou are very good, my love, to think so; but 
nobody can live in that odious country without being 
infected with its patois. I really thought I should 
hâve caught it myself ; and Mr. Douglas " (no longer 
Henry) "became quite gross in his language after 
living amongst his relations." 

''This is really too bad," cried Lady Emily indig- 
nantly. *' If a person speaks sensé and truth, what 
does it signify how it is spoken 1 And whether your 
Ladyship chooses to reçoive your daughter hère or 
not^ I shall at any rate invite my cousin to my 



302 MABBIAGE. 

father's housa" And, snatching up a pen, she in- 
stantly began a letter to Maiy. 

Lady Julîana was bîghly incensed at lihis freedom 
of her nièce ; but she was a little afraîd of ber, and 
tberefore, after some sbarp altercation, and witb in- 
finité violence done to ber feelings, sbe was preraîled 
upon to Write a decentlj civil sort of a letter to Mrs. 
Douglas, consenting to receive ber daugbter for a Jew 
months; firmly resolving in ber own mind to conceal 
ber from ail eyes and ears while sbe remained, and to 
retum ber to ber Scotcb relations early in tbe summer. 

Tbis wortby résolution formed, sbe became more 
serene and awaited tbe arrivai of ber daugbter 
witb as mucb firmness as could reasonably bave been 
expected. 



CHAPTER XXX. 

" And for unfelt imaginations 
They often feel a world of restless caros.** 

Shakssfxabx. 

LrrcLE weened the good ladies of Olenf em the on- 
gracious réception their protégée was likely to expéri- 
ence from her mother ; for, in spîte of tibe def ects of 
her éducation, Mary was a gênerai favourîte in the 
family; and however they mîght solace themselves 
by depreciating her to Mr& Douglas, to the world in 
gênerai, and their young female acquaintances in par- 
tîcular, she was upheld as an epitome of every perfec- 
tion aboyé and below the sun. Had it been possible 
for them to conçoive that Mary could hâve been re- 
ceiyed with anythîng short of rapture, Lady Juliana's 
letter might in some measure hâve opened the eyes 
of their understanding ; but to the guileless sisters it 
seemed everything that was proper. Sorry for the 
necessity Mrs. Douglas f elt under of parting with her 
adopted daughter, was "prettily expressed;" had no 
doubt it was merely a slight nervous affection, " was 
kind and soothing;" and the assurance, more than 
once repeated, that her friends might rely upon her 
beîng retumed to them in the course of a veiy few 



1 



304 MABRIAGE. 

months, ''showed a great deal of feeling and con- 
gideration." But as theîr minds never maîntamed a 
just equilibrium long upon any subject» bat, like falsely- 
adjusted scales, were ever boyerîng and vibratîng at 
eîther extrême, so they could not rest satîsfied in the 
belief that Mary was to be happy; there most be 
something to counteract that stilling sentiment; and 
that was the appréhension that Marj would be spoilt 
This, for the présent^ was the pendulum of their 
imaginations. 

"I déclare, Mary, my sisters and I could get no 
deep last nigjht for thinking of yoo," said Miss Orizzy ; 
^we are àll certain that Lady Juliana especially, but 
indeed ail your En^ish relations, will think so much 
of you — from not knowing you, you know — which 
will be quite naturaL Fm sure that my sisters and I 
haye taken it into our heads — ^but I hope it won't be 
the case, as you hâve a great deal of good sensé of 
your own — ^that they will quite tum your head.'' 

^ Mar/s head is on her shoulders to little purpose," 
followed up Miss Jacky, '^if she can't stand being 
made of when she goes amongst strangers ; and she 
ought to know by this time that a mother's pàrtiality 
is no proof of a child's merit." 

"You hear that^ Mary," rejoîned Miss Grîzzy; "so 
Fm sure I hope you won't mind a word that your 
mother says to you, I mean about yourself ; for of 
course you know she can't be such a good judge of 
you as us^ who hâve known you ail your lif e. As to 
other things^ I daresay she is vtry well inf ozmed 



mâkbiage. 305 

about tbe country, and politics, and thèse sort of 
things — ^l'm certain Lady Juliana knows a great deal" 

"And I hope, Mary, you will take care and not 
get înto the daadlin' handiess ways of the English 
women/' said Miss Nicky ; " I wouldn't give a pin for 
an Englishwoman." 

"Ând I hope you will never look at an English- 
man, Mary/' said Miss Grizzy, with equal eamestness; 
"take my word for it they are a very dissipated, 
unprincipled set They ail drink, and game, and 
keep race-horses; and many of them, l'm told, even 
keep play-actresses ; so you may think what it wonld 
be for ail of us if you were to many any of them," — 
and tears streamed from the good spinster's eyes at 
the bare supposition of such a calamity. 

" Don't be afraid, my dear aunt>" said Mary, with 
a kind caress ; " I shall corne back to you your own 
'Highland Mary.' No Englishman with his round face 
and trim meadows shall ever captivate ma Heath- 
coTered hills and high cheek-bones are the charms that 
must win my heart" 

" Fm delighted to hear you say so, my dear Mary," 
said ihe literal-minded Grizzy. "Certainly nothing 
can be prettier than the heather when it's in flower ; 
and there is something very manly— nobody can dis- 
pute that — ^in high cheek-bones ; and besîdes, to tell 
you a secret, Lady Maclaughlan bas a husband in her 
eye for you. We none of us can conçoive who it is, 
but of course he must be suitable in every respect; for 
you know Lady Maclaughlan bas had three husbanda 



306 MÀERIAGE. 

herself ; so of course she must be an excellent judge 
of a good husband." 

"Or a bad one," saîd Mary, "whîch îs the same 
thin^ Waming is aa good as^xampla" 

Mrs. Douglas's ideas and those of her aunts did not 
coincide upon thîs occasion more than upon most others. 
In her sîster-în-law's letter she flattered herself she saw 
only f ashionable indifférence ; and she f ondly hoped 
that would soon give way to a tenderer sentiment, as 
her daughter became known to her. At any rate it 
was proper that Mary should make the trial, and 
whichever way it ended, it must be for her advantage. 

" Mary has already lived too long in thèse moun- 
tain solitudes," thought she ; " her ideas will become 
romantic, and her taste fastidious. If it is dangerous 
to be too early initiated into the ways of the world, 
it is perhaps equally so to Uve too long secluded from 
it Should she make herself a place in the heart of 
her mother and sister it will be so much happiness 
gained; and should it prove otherwise, it wiU be a 
lesson leamt — ^a hard one indeed ! but hard are the 
lessons we must ail leam in the school of life !" Yet 
Mrs. Douglas's fortitude almost failed her as the 
period of séparation approached. 

It had been arranged by Lady Emily that a carnage 
and servants should meet Mary at Edinburgh, whither 
Mr. Douglas was to convey her. The cruel moment 
came; and mother, sister, relations, friends,— aU the 
bright visions which Mary's sanguine spirit had con- 
jured up to soften the parting pang, ail were absorbed 



MARKIAGK 307 

in one agonising feeling, one overwhelming thought 
Oli, who that for the first time has parted from the 
parent whose tendemess and love were entwined with 
our earliest recollections, whose sympathy had soothed 
our infant sufferings, whose fondness had brightened 
our infant f elicity ; — who that has a heart, but must 
hâve felt it sink beneath the anguish of a first fare- 
well ! Yet bitterer still must be the f eelings • of the 
parent upon committing the cherished object of their 
cares and affections to the stormy océan of life. 
When expérience points to the gathering cloud and 
rising surge which soon may assail their defenceless 
child, what can support the mother's heart but trust 
în Him whose eye slumbereth not, and whose power 
extendeth over ail ? It was this pious hope, this holy 
confidence, that enabled this more than mother to 
part from her adopted child with a résignation which 
no earthly motive could hâve imparted to her mind 
It seems almost profanation to mingle with her ele- 
vated feelings the coarse yet simple sorrows of the 
aunts, old and young, as they clung around the nearly 
lifeless Mary, each tendering the parting gift they had 
kept as a solace for the last. 

Poor Miss Grizzy was more than usually incohérent, 
as she displayed " a nice new umbrella that could be 
tumed into a nice walking-stick, or anything ;" and a 
dressing-box, with a little of everything in it; and, 
with a fresh burst of tears, Mary was directed where 
she would not find eye-ointment, and where she was 
not to look for sticking-plaister. 



308 MABBU6E. 

Miss Jacky was more composed as she presented a 
flaming copy of Fordyce's Sermons to Young Women, 
with a few suitable observations; but Miss Nicky could 
scarcely find voice to tell that the housewife she now 
tendered had once been Lady Gimachgowrs, and that 
ît contained Whitechapel needles of every size and 
number. The yomiger ladies had clubbed for the 
purchase of a large locket, in which was enshrined a 
lock from each subscriber, tastefully arranged by the 

jeweller, in the form of a wheat sheaf upon a 

blue ground. Even old Donald had his offering, and, 
as he stood tottering at the chaise door, he contrived 
to get a '* bit snishin mull " laid on Mar/s lap, with a 
" God bless her bonny face, an' may she ne'er want a 
good sneesh!" 

The carnage drove off, and for a while Mar/a 
eyes were closed in despair. 



OHAPTER XXXL 

'* Farewell to the moontains, high coyered with snow ; 
Farewell to the straths, and green valleys below ; 
Farewell to the foresta, and wîld hanging woods, 
Farewell to the torrents, and loud roaring floods t " 

Scotch Song. 

Happily in the moral world as in the material one the 
warring éléments hâve their prescribed boimds, and 
^'the flood of grief decreaseth when it can swell no 
higher ;" but it is only by retrospection we can bring 
ourselves to believe in this obvions truth. The young 
and untrîed heart hugs itself in the bittemess of its 
émotions, and takes a pride in believing that its 
angoish can end but with its existence ; and it is not 
till time hath almost steeped our sensés in forgetful- 
ness that we discover the mutability of ail human 
passions. 

But Mary left it not to the slow hand of time to 
Bubdue in some measure the grief that swelled her 
heart Had she given way to selfishness, she would 
hâve sought the free indulgence of her sorrow as the 
only mitigatîon of it ; but she felt also for her uncle. 
He was depressed at parting with his wife and child, 
and he was taking a long and dreary joumey entirely 



310 MABBIAGE. 

upon her account, Could she therefore be so selfish 
as to add to his uneasiness by a display of her suffer- 
ings ? No — she would strive to conceal it from his 
observation, though to overcome it was impossible. 
Her feelings must ever remaiii the same, but she would 
confine them to her own breast; and she began to 
converse with and even strove to amuse, her kind- 
hearted companion. Ever and anon indeed a rush of 
tender recollections came across her mind, and the 
soft voice and the bland countenance of her maternai 
f riend seemed for a moment présent to her sensés ; 
and then the dreariness and désolation that succeeded 
as the delusion vanished, and ail was stillness and 
vacuity! Even self-reproach shot îts piercing sting 
into her ingenuous heart ; levities on which, in her 
usual gaiety of spirit, she had never bestowed a 
thought, now appeared to her as crimes of the deepost 
dye. She thought how often she had slighted the 
counsels and neglected the wishes of her gentle moni- 
tress; how she had wearied of her good old aunts, 
their cracked voices, and the everlasting tic-Ortic of 
their knitting needles; how coarse and vulgar she 
had sometimes doemed the younger ones; how she 
had mimicked Lady Maclaughlan, and caricatured 
Sir Sampson, and " even poor dear old Donald," said 
she, as she summed up the catalogue of her crimes, 
" could not escape my insolence and ill-nature. How 
clever I thought it to sing * Haud awa frae me, Donald,' 
and how affectedly I shuddered at everything he 
touched;" and the "sneeshin mull" was bedewed 



MABBIAGE. 311 

with tears of affectîonate contrition. But every pain- 
fui sentiment was for a whîle suspended in admiration 
of the magnificent scenery that was spread around 
them. Though summer had fled, and few even of 
autunm's grâces remained, yet over the august f eatures 
of mountain scenery the seasons hâve little controL 
Their charms dépend not upon richness of verdure, ^ or 
luxuriance of f oliage, or any of the mère prettinesses 
of nature; but whether wrapped in snow, or veiled 
in mist, or glowing in sunshine, their lonely grandeur 
remains the same ; and the same f eelings fill and 
elevate the soûl in contemplating thèse mighty works 
of ah Almighty hand The eye is never weary in 
watching the thousand varieties of light and shade, 
as they Ait over the mountain and gleam upon the 
lake j and the ear is satisfied with the awful stillness 
of nature in her solitude. 

Others/besides Mary seemed to^ hâve taken a fanci- 
ful pleasure in combining the ideas of the mental and 
elemental world, for in the dreary dwelling where they 
were destined to pass the night she found inscribed 
the f oUowing lines : — 

" The busy winds war mid the wavîng bonghsy 
And darkly roUs tbe heaving surge to land ; 
Among the flying clouds the moonbeam glowB 
With colours foreign to its softness bland. 

*' Hère» one dark shadow melts, in gloom profonnd, 
The towering Alps — the guardians of the Lake^; 
There, one bright gleam sheds silver light around, 
And shows the threat'ning strife that tempests wake^ 



312 HABRIÀGB. 

•* Thns o'er my inînd a buay memory pla3r8, 

That shakes the feelings to their inmost core ; 
Thus beams the light of Hope's fallacious raya» 
When simple confidence can trust no more. 

" So one dark shadow shronds each bygone hour, 
So one bright gleam the coming tempest shows ; 
That tells of sorrows, which, though past, still lower, 
And ihis reveals th' approach of futore woes." 

While Mary was trying to decipher thèse somewhat 
mystic Unes, her uncle was carrying on a coUoquy in 
Gaelic wîth tbeir hostesa The conséquences of ihe 
consultation were not of the choicest description, con- 
sisting of braxy ^ mutton, raw potatoes, wet bannocks, 
hard cheese, and whisky. Yery differently would the 
travellers hâve fared had the good Nicky's intentions 
been f ulâlled. She had prepared with her own hands 
a mooifowl pie and potted nowt's head, besides a pro- 
fusion bf what she termed ''trifles, just for Mary, 
poor thing, to divert herself with upon the road.'' 
But alas ! in the anguish of séparation, the covered 
basket had been f orgot, and the labour of Miss Nicky's 
hands f ell to be consumed by the family, though Miss 
Grizzy protested, with tears in her eyes, " that it went 
to her heart like a knife to eat poor Mary's puffs and 
snaps." 

Change of air and variety of scène faîled not to 
produce the happiest effects upon Mary's languid 
frame and drooping spirits. Her cheek akeady 
glowed with health, and was sometimes dimpled with 
smiles. She still wept, indeed, as she thought of 

^ Sheep that bave died a natoral death and been salted. 



MABBUGS. 313 

those she had left ; but often, whOe the tear trembled 
in her eye, its course was arrested by wonder, or 
admiration, or delight ; for every object had its charma 
for her. Her cultivated taste and unsophisticated 
mind could descry beauty in the form of a hill, and 
grandeur in the foam of the wave, and élégance in 
the weeping birch, as it dipped its now almost leafless 
boughs in the mountaîn stream. Thèse simple plea- 
sures, unknown alike to the sordid mind and vitiated 
taste, are ever exquisitely enjoyed by the refîned yet 
muophisticated child of nature. 



' 



OHAPTER XXXn. 

" Her natiye sensé improyed by reading, 
Her native sweetness by good breedîng. 



Il 



DuRiNG their progress through the Higblands the 
travellers were hospitably entertained at the mansîons 
of the country gentlemen, where old-f ashioned courtesy 
and modem comfort combined to cheer the étranger 
guest But upon coming ovt^ as it is sîgnîficantly ex- 
pressed by the natives of thèse mountaîn régions, viz. 
entering the low country, they f ound they had only 
made a change of difficultîes. In the Higblands they 
were always sure that wherever there was a bouse 
that bouse would be to them a home ; but on a f air- 

day in the little town of G they f ound tbemselves 

in the midst of bouses, and surrounded by people, yet 
unablé to procure rest or shelter. 

At the only inn the place afforded they were in- 
formed " the horses were baith oot, an' the ludgin' a' 
tane up, an' mair tu ;" while the driver asserted, what 
indeed was apparent, " that bis beasts war nae fit to 
gang the length o' their tae farrer — no for the king 
bimser." 

At this moment a stout, florid, good-humoured- 
looking man passed, whistling " Roy's Wife " with ail 



MABBUGE. 315 

bis heart ; and just as Mr. Douglas was stepping ou^ 
of the carnage to try what could be done, the same 
person, evidently attracted hj curiosity, repassed, 
changing his tnne to " There's cauld kail in Aberdeea" 

He started at sigbt of Mr. Douglas ; then eagerly 
grasping bis band, " Ab ! Arcbie Douglas, is tbis youl" 
exclaîmed be witb a loud laugb and beariy sbake. 
"Wbat! you baven't forgot your old scboolfellow 
Bob Gawffaw ?" 

A mutual récognition now took place, and much 
pleasure was manifested on botb sides at tbis unex- 
pected rencontre. No time was allowed to explain 
tbeir embarrassments, for Mr. Gawffaw bad already 
tipped tbe post-boy tbe wink (wbicb be seemed easily 
to comprebend) ; and forcing Mr. Douglas to résume 
bis seat in tbe carriage, be jumped in bimsell 

"Now for Howflfend and Mrs. Gawffaw! ba, ba, 
ba ! Tbis will be a surprise upon ber. Sbe tbinks 
l'm in my bam ail tbis time — ^ba, ba, ba !" 

Mr. Douglas bere began to express bis astonisbment 
at bis friend's précipitation, and bis apprebensions as 
to tbe trouble tbey migbt occasion Mrs. Gawffaw ; but 
bursts of laugbter and broken expressions of deligbt 
were tbe only replies be could procure from bis friend. 

After jolting over balf a mile of very bad road, tbe 
carriage stopped at a mean vulgar-looking mansion, 
witb dirty Windows, ruinons tbatcbed oflSces, and 
broken fonces. 

Sucb was tbe picture of still lif e. Tbat of animated 
nature was not less picturesque. Cows bellowed, and 



316 masbuloe. 

cart-horses neighed, and pigs grunted, and geese 
gabbled, and ducks quacked, and cocks and hens 
flapped and fluttered promiscuously, as thej mingled 
in a sort of yard divided from the house bj a low 
dyke» possessing the accommodation of a crazy gâte, 
which was bestrode by a parcel of bare-legged boys. 

'^Wliat are you about, you confounded rascalsf 
called Mr. Gawffaw to them. 

" Naething," answered one. 

*'We're just takin' a heize on the yett," answered 
another. 

^'111 heize je, je scoundrelsl" exclaimed the in- 
censed Mr. Gawffaw, as he burst from the carriage ; 
and, snatching the drîver's whip from his hand, flew 
af ter the more nîmble-f ooted culprits. 

Finding his efforts to overtake them in vain, he 
retumed to the door of his mansion, where stood his 
guests, waiting to be ushered in. He opened the door 
timself , and led the way to a parlour which was quite 
of a pièce with the exterior of the dwelling. Â dim 
dusty table stood in the middle of the floor, heaped 
with a variety of heterogeneous articles of dress ; an 
exceeding dirty volume of a novel lay open amongst 
them. The floor was littered with shapings of flannel, 
and shreds of gauzes, ribbons, eta The fire was 
almost out, and the hearth was covered with ashes. 

After insisting upon his guests being seated, Mr. 
Grawffaw walked to the door of the apartment, and 
hallooed out, "Mrs. Grawffaw, — ho! May, my dear 1 
— I say, Mrs, Gawffaw 1 " 



MABRIAGE. 317 

A low, croakîng, querulous voîce was now heard in 
reply, "For heaven's sake, Mr. Gawffaw, make less 
noise ! For God's sake, hâve mercy on the walls of 
your house, if youVe none on my poor head ! " And 
thereupon entered Mrs. Gawffaw, a cap in one hand, 
which she appeared to hâve been tying on — a smell- 
ing-bottle in the other. 

She possessed a considérable share of insipid and 
somewhat faded beauty, but disguised by a tawdry 
trumpery style of dress, and rendered ahnost disgust- 
ing by the air of affectation, foUy, and peevishness 
that overspread her whole person and deportment 
She testified the utmost surprise and coldness at sight 
of her guests; and, as she entered, Mr. Gawffaw 
rushed out^ having descried something passing in 
the yard that called for his interposition. Mr. Douglas 
was therefore under the necessity of introducing him- 
self and Mary to their ungracious hostess; briefly 
stating the circumstances that had led them to be her 
guests, and dwelUng, with much warmth, on the kind- 
ness and hospitality of her husband in having relieved 
them from their embarrassment A gracions smile, 
or what was intended as such, beamed over Mrs. 
6awffaw*s face at first mention of their namea 

"Excuse me, Mr. Douglas," said she, making a 
profound révérence to him, and auother to Mary, 
while she waved her hand for them to be seated. 
"Excuse me, Miss Douglas; but situated as I am, I 
find it necessary to be very distant to Mr. Gawffaw's 
friends sometimea He is a thoughtless man, Mr.' 



318 MARRIAGB. 

Douglas — a very thoughtless maiL He makes a 
perfect inn of his house. He never lies out of the 
town, trying who he can pick up and bring home 
with him. It is seldom I am so fortunate as to see 
such guests as Mr. and Miss Douglas of Glenfern 
Castle in my house," with an élégant bow to each, 
which of course was duly retumed. "But Mr. 
GawflFaw would hâve shown more considération, both 
for you and me, had he apprised me of the honour 
of your visit, instead of bringing you hère in this ill- 
bred, unceremonious manner. As for me, I am too 
well accustomed to him to be hurt at thèse things 
now. He has kept me in hot water, I may say, since 
l^e day I married him ! " 

In spite of the conciliatory manner in whîch 
this agreeable address was made, Mr. Douglas felt 
considerably disconcerted, and again renewed his 
apologies, adding something about hopes of being 
able to proceed. 

" Make no apologies, my dear sir," said the lady, 
with what she deemed a most bewitching manner, 
"it affords me the greatest pleasure to see any of 
your family under my roof. I meant no reflection on 
you ; it is entirely Mr. GawfFaw that is to blâme, in 
not having apprised me of the honour of this visit, 
that I might not hâve been caught in this deshabille ; 
but I was really so engaged by my studies — " pointing 
to the dirty novel — " that I was quite unconscious of 
the lapse of time." The guests felt more and more 
at a loss what to say; but the lady was at nonei 



MABRIAGB. 319 

Seeing Mr. Douglas still standing wîth his hat in his 
hand, and his eye directed towards the door, she re- 
somed lier discoorsa 

" Pray be seated, Mr. Douglas ; I beg you will sit 
off the door. Miss Douglas, I entreat you will walk 
into the fire ; I hope you will consider yourself as 
quite at home" — another élégant bend to each. "I 
only regret that Mr. Gawffaw's folly and ill-breeding 
should hâve brought you into this disagreeable situa- 
tion, Mr. Douglas. He is a well-meaning man, Mr. 
Douglas, and a good-hearted man; but he is very 
déficient in other respects, Mr. Dougla&" 

Mr. Douglas, happy to find anything to which he 
could assent^ warmly joined in the eulogium on the 
excellence of his friend's heart It did not appear, 
however, to give the satisfaction he expected. The 
lady resumed with a sigh, ^'Noboby can know Mr. 
Gawffaw's heart better than I do, Mr. Douglas. It is 
a good one, but it is far from being an élégant one ; 
it is one in which I find no congeniality of sentiment 
with my owa Indeed, Mr. Gawffaw is no companion 
for me, nor I for him, Mr. Douglas ; he is never happy 
in my society, and I really believe he would rather sit 
down with the tinklers on the roadside as spend a 
day in my company." 

A deep sigh f oUowed ; but its pathos was drowned 
in the obstreperous ha, ha^ ha! of her joyous help- 
mate, as he bounced into the room, wîping his fore- 
head. 

" Why, May, my dear, what hâve you been about 



320 ICABBUGB. 

to-day? Things bave been ail going to the deuca 
Wby didn't you binder tbese boys from sweein' tbe 
gâte off its binges, and " 

" Me binder boys from sweein' gâtes, Mr. Gawffaw! 
Do I look like as if I was capable of binderîng boys 
from sweein' gâtes, Miss Douglas V* 

" Well, my dear, you ougbt to look after your pîgs 
a little, better. Tbat jade, black Jess, bas trod a 
parcel of tbem to deatb, ba, ba, ba ! and ^** 

"Me look after pigs, Mr. GawfTaw! I am really 
astonisbed at you I" again interrupted tbe lady, tum- 
ing pale with vexatioiL Tben, witb an affected giggle, 
appealing to Mary, "I leave you to judge. Miss 
Douglas, if I look like a person made for running 
after pigs !" 

" Indeed," tbougbt Mary, " you don't look like as 
if you could do anytbing balf so usefuL" 

" Well, never mind tbe pigs, my dear ; only don't 
give us any of tbem for dinner — ^ba^ ba, ba! — and, 
May, wben will you let us bave it ?" 

" Me let you bave it, Mr. Gawffaw ! Fm sure I 
don't binder you from baving it wben you please, 
only you know I prefer late bours myselE. I was 
always accustomed to tbem in my poor fatber's life- 
time. He never dined before four o'clock; and I 
seldom knew wbat it was to be in my bed before 
twelve o'clock at nigbt. Miss Douglas, till I married 
Mr. Gawffaw !" 

Mary tried to look sorrowful, to bide tbe smile 
ihat waâ dimpHng ber cbeek. 



KABBIAGE. 321 

"Corne, let us hâve something to eat in the mean- 
tin^e, my dear." 

" Tm sure you may eat the house, if you please, 
for me, Mr. Gawffaw ! What would you take. Miss 
Douglas î But pull the bell — softly, Mr. Gawffaw I 
You do everything so violently." 

A dirty maid-servant, with bare f eet, answered the 
summona 

" Where's Tom V* demanded the lady, well knowing 
that Tom was af ar off at some of the f arm operatiomL 

"I ken nae whar he'& He'll be aether at the 
patatees, or the horses, l'se warraxu Div ye want 
himr 

"Bring some glasses,'' said her mistress, with an 
air of great dignity. "Mr. Gawffaw, you must see 
about the wine yourself since you hâve sent Tom out 
of the way." 

Mr. Gawffaw and his handmaid were soon heard 
in an adjoining closet ; the one wondering where the 
screw was, the other vociferating for a knife to eut 
the bread ; while the mistress of this well-regulated 
mansion sought to divert her guests' attention from 
what was passing by entertaining them with com- 
plaints of Mr. Gawffaw's noise and her inaid's inso- 
lence till the parties appeared to speak for themselves. 

After being refreshed with some very bad wine 
and old baked bread, the gentlemen set off on a 
survey of the farm, and the ladies repaired to their 
toilets. Mar/s simple dress was quickly adjusted; 
and upon descending she found her uncle alone in 
VOL, L y M 



322 MABRUGS. 

what Mrs. Gawïïaw had shown to lier as the drawîng- 
room. He guessed her curîosity to know something 
of her hosts, and therefore briefly înformed her tbat 
Mrs. Gawfifaw was the daughter of a trader in some 
manufacturing town, who had Hved in opulence and 
died insolvent During his life his daughter had 
eloped with Bob GawfTaw, then a gay lieutenant in a 
marching régiment, who had been esteemed a very 
Incky f ellow in getting the pretty Miss Croaker, with 
the prospect of ten thousand pounds. None thought 
more highly of her husband's good fortune than the 
lady herself; and though her fortune never was 
realised, she gave herseU ail the airs of having been 
the making of his. At this time Mr. Gawffaw was 
a reduced lieutenant» living upon a small patemal 
property, which he pretended to f ann ; but the habits 
of a military. life, joined to a naturally social disposi- 
tion, were rather inimical to the pursuits of agri- 
culture, and most of his time was spent in loitering 

about the village of G , where he generally con- 

tinued either to piek up a guest or procure a dinner. 

Mi& Gawfifaw despised her husband; had weak 
nerves * and headaches — was above managing, her 
hoose — ^read novels — dyed ribbons — and altered her 
gowns according to every pattem she could see or 
hear o£ 

Such were Mr. and Mrs. Gawffaw — 6ne of the 
many ill-assorted couples in this world — joined, not 
matched. A sensible man would hâve curbed her 
folly and peevishness ; a good-tempered woman would 



. MAKBIAGE. 323 

have made hîs home comfortable, and rendered him 
more domestîa 

The dinner was such as might hâve been expected 
from the previous spécimens — bad of its kind, cold, 
ill-dressed, and slovenly set down ; but Mrs. Gawffaw 
seemed satîsfied wîth herself and it 

"This is verj fine mutton, Mr. Douglas, and not 
underdone to most people's tastes ; and this f owl, I 
hâve no doubt will eat well, Miss Douglas, though it 
is not 80 white as some I hâve seen." 

'*The fowl, my dear, looks as if it had been the 
great-grandmother of this sheep, ha, ha, ha !" 

'^For heaven's sake, Mr. Gawfiaw, make less noise, 
or my head ivill split in a thousand pièces !" putting 
her hands to it, as if to hold the frail tenement 
together. This was always her refuge when at a loss 
for a reply. 

A very ill-concocted pudding next called f orth her 
approbation. 

" This pudding should be good ; for it is the same 
I used to be so partial to in my poor father's hfetime, 
when I was used to every delicacy. Miss Douglas, Ijhat 
money could purchase." 

"But you thought me the greatest delicacy of ail, 
my dear, ha, ha, ha ! for you lef t ail your other deli- 
cacies for me, ha, ha, ha ! — what do you say to that, 
May î ha, ha, ha!" 

Ma/s reply consisted in putting her hands to her 
head, with an air of inexpressible vexation ; and find- 
ing ail her endeavours to be élégant frustrated by the 



^ I 



324 BfARRIAGK 

overpowering vulgarity of her husband, she remaîned 
silent during the remainder of the repart ; solacing 
herself with complacent glances at her yellow sîlk 
gown, and adjusting the gold chains and neckl«»s 
that adomed her bosom. 

Poor Mary was doomed to a tUe^uMe with her 
during the whole evening ; for Mr. GawflFaw was too 
happy wUh his friend, and wUhmt his wife, to quit 
the dîning-room till a late hour j and then he was so 
much exhilarated, that she could almost hâve joîned 
Mrs. Gawffaw in her exclamation of "For heaven's 
sake, Mr. Gawffaw, hâve mercy on my head !" 

The night, however, like ail other nights, had a 
dose ; and Mrs. Gawffaw, having once more enjoyed 
the felicity of finding herself in company at twelve 
o'clock at night, at length withdrew; and having 
apologised, and hoped, and feared, for another hour 
in Mar/s apartment, she finally left her to the bless- 
ings of solitude and repose. 

As Mr. Douglas was desîrous of reaching Edin- 
burgh the f ollowing day, he had, in spite of the urgent 
remonstrances of his friendly host and the élégant 
importunitîes of his lady, ordered the carnage at an 
early hour ; and Mary was too eager to quit Howffend 
to keep it waîting. Mr. Gawffaw was in readiness to 
hand her in, but f ortunately Mrs. GawffaVs head did 
not permit of her rising. With much the same hearty 
laugh that had welcomed their meeting, honest Gawf- 
faw now saluted the departure of his friend ; and as 
he went whistling over his gâte, he ruminated sweet 



i 



MARRIAGE. 326 

and bitter thoaghts as to tibe destînies of tihe day — 
whether hé should solace liimself with a good dinner 
and the company of Bailie Merrythought at the Cross 

Keys in G^ ^ or put up with cold mutton, and May, 

at hom& 



CHAPTEE XXXIIL 

** Edina ! Scotîa's darling seat I 

Ail bail thy palaces and tow^is, 

Where once, beneath a monarch's feet^ 

Sat legîslation's soy'reîgn pow'rs !" 

BtTBira. 

AUi Mary's sensations of admiration were faint 
compared to those she experienced as she viewed the 
Scottish metropolis. It was associated in her mind 
with ail the local prepossessions to which youtli and 
entihusiasm love to give ''a local habitation and a 
name;" and visions of older times floated o'er her 
mind as she gazed on its rocky battlements, and tra- 
versed the lonely arcades of its deserted palace. 

"And this was once a gay court !" thought she, as 
she listened to the dreary écho of her own f ootsteps ; 
"and this very ground on which I now stand was 
trod by the hapless Mary Stuart ! Her eye beheld 
the same objects that mine now rests upon ; her hand 
has touched the draperies I now hold in mine. Thèse 
f rail memorials remain ; but what remains of Scot- 
land's Queen but a blighted name !" 

Even the blood - stained chamber possessed a 
nameless charm for Mary's vivid imagination. She 



MABRIAGS. 327 

had not entirely escaped the superstitions of the 
coantry in which she had liyed; and she readily 
yielded her assent to the asseveratîons of her guide 
as to its being the hona fide blood of David BizziOy 
which for nearly three hundred years had resisted 
ail human efforts to efface. 

''My credulity is so harmless,'' said she in answer 
to her uncle's attempt to laugh her out of her belief , 
"that I surely may be permitted to indulge it — 
espedally since I conf ess I feel a sort of indescribable 
pleasure in it" 

"Ton take a pleasure in the sight of blood !" ex- 
claimed Mr. Douglas in astonishment, " you who tum 
pale at sight of a eut finger, and shudder at a leg of 
mutton with the juice in it !" 

" Oh! mère modem vulgar blood îs very shocking," 
answered Mary, with a smile ; " but observe how this 
is méllowed by time into a tint that could not offend 
the most fastidious fine lady ; besides," added she in 
a graver tone, "I own I love to believe in things 
supematural; it seems to connect us more with another 
world than when everything is seen to proceed in the 
mère ordinary course of nature, as it is called. I 
cannot bear to imagine a dreary chasm betwixt the 
iiùabitants of tiiis world and beings of a higher 
sphère ; I love to f ancy myself surrounded by- ^'• 

" I wish to heaven you would remember you are 
surrounded by rational beings, and not fall into such 
rhapsodies," said her uncle, glancîng at a party who 
stood near them, jestîng upon ail the objects which 



328 HABBIAGB. 

Mary had been regarding with so mnch veneratioa 
^^But corne, you bave been long enough here. Let 
ns try wbetber a breeze on tbe Calton Hill will not 
dispel thèse cobwebs from your brain." 

The day, ihough cold, was clear and sunny ; and 
the lovely spectacle bef ore them shone f orth in ail its 
gay magnificenca The bine waters lay calm and 
m6tionles& The opposite shores glowed in a thousand 
yarîed tints of wood and plain, rock and mountain, 
cultured field and purple moor. Beneath, the old 
town reared its dark brow, and the new one stretehed 
its golden lines ; while ail around the varied charms 
of nature lay scattered in that profusion wbich nature's 
hand alone can bestow. 
' ''Oh! this is exquisite!" exclaimed Mary after a 
long pause, in which she had been riveted in admira- 
tion of the scène before her. "And you are in the 
rigH my dear unck The ideas which are inspired 
by the contemplation of such a spectacle as this are 
far — oh, how far 1 — superior to those excited by the 
mère works of art There I can, at best^ think but 
of the inferior agents of Providence; here the soûl 
lises from nature up to naturels God." 

" XJpon my soûl, you will be taken for a Methodist, 
Mary, if you talk in this manner," said Mr. Douglas, 
with some marks of disquiet, as he tumed round at 
the salutation of a fat elderly gentleman, whom he 
presently recognised as Bailie Broadfoot 

The first salutations over, Mr. DougWs fears of 
Maiy having been overheard recurred, and he felt 



MABBIAGS. 329 

anzions to remove any unf avourable impression with 
regard to his own principles, at least^ from the mind 
of the enlightened magistrate. 

" Your fine views hère hâve set my nièce absolutely 
raving," said he, with a smile ; " but I tell her it is only 
in romantic minds that fine scenery inspires romantic 
ideas. I daresay many of the worthy inhabitants of 
Edinburgh walk hère with no other idea than that of 
sharpening their appetites for dinner." 

'^Nae doot," said the Bailie, '4t's a most capital 
place for that Were it no' for that I ken nae muckle 
use it would be of." 

" You speak from expérience of its virtues in that 
respect, I suppose T' said Mr. Douglas gravely. 

'' Deed, as to that I canna compleen. At times, 
to be sure, I am troubled with a little Mnd of a 
squeamishness after our public interteenments ; but 
three rounds o' the hill sets a' to rights." 

Then observing Mary's eyes exploring, as he sup- 
posed, the town of Leith, " You see that prospeck to 
nae advantage the day, miss," said ha " If the glass- 
houses had been workin', it would hâve looked as weel 
agaîn. Ye hae nae glass-houses in the Highlands; 
na, na." 

The Bailie had a share in the concem; and the 
volcanic clouds of smoke that issued from thence were 
far more interesting subjects of spéculation to him 
than ail the éruptions of Yesuvius or Etna. But there 
was nothing to charm the lingering view to-day ; and 
he theref ore proposed their taking a look at Bridewell, 



330 UAKBUGE. 

which, nezt to the emoke from the glaBs-housea, he 
reckoned the object most worthy of notice. It waa 
iiideed deeerving of the praîees bestowed apon it; 
and Mary was giving her whole attention to the 
détails of it when she vas snddenly startled by heaiv 
ing her own name waîled in piteous accente from one 
of the lowec cella, and, npon tuming round, she dis- 
covered in the prisoner the son of one of the tenante 
of Glenfern. Duncan M'Free had heen always looked 
upon as a veiy honest lad in the Highlands, bnt he 
had left home to push bis fortune as a pedlar ; and 
the temptations of the low country having proved too 
■mucli for hia virtue, poor Duncan was now expiatiog 
his oâence in dniance vile. 

" I shall hare a pretty aecount of yon to carry to 
Glenfern," said Mr. Douglas, regarding the cnlprit 
TÏth his stemest look. 

" Oh 'deed, sir, it's no' my faut ! " answered Duncan, 
blubbering bitterly; "bnt there's nae freedom at a' 
in this country. Lord, an* I war oot o't 1 Âne canna 
ca' tbeir head their ain in't; for ye canna lift the 
bouk o' a prin but they're a' upon ye." And a fiesh 
burst of soiTow ensued. 

Finding the paxadUlo was of a reniai nature, Mr. 
Douglas beeought the Bailie to use his interest to 
procure the enfranchi sèment of this his vassal, whîch 
Mi, Broadfoot, happy to obl%e a good customer, 
promised should be obtained on the following day; 
— ^ Duncan's émotions being rather clamorous, the 
;y fouud it necessary to witbdraw. 



MARBIAGE. 331 

" And nôo," said the Bailie, as they emerged from 
this place of dole and durance, " will ye step up to the 
monument, and tak a rest and some refreshment?" 

'* Eest and refreshment in a monument 1" exclaimed 
Mr. Douglas. " Excuse me, my good friend, but we 
are not inclîned to bait there yet a while." 

The Bailie did not comprehend the joke ; and he 
proceeded in his own drawling humdrum accent to 
assure them that the monument was a most conveni- 
ent place. 

"It was erected in honour of Lord Neilson's 
memoiy/' said he, '* and is let aff to a pastrycook and 
confectioner, where you can always find some trifles 
to treat the ladies, such as pies and custards, and 
berries, and thèse sort of things ; but we passed an 
order in the cooncil that there should be naething of 
a spirituous nature introduced ; for if ance spîrits got 
admittance there's no saying what might happen." 

This was a fact which none of the party were dis- 
posed to dispute; and the Bailie, triumphing in his 
dominion over the spirits, shuffled on before to do 
the honours of this place, appropriated at one and the 
same time to the mânes of a hero and the making of 
minced pies. The regale was admirable, and Mary 
could not help thinking times were improved, and 
that ît was a better thing to eat tarts in Lord Nelson'» 
Monument than to hâve been poisoned in Julius 
Gœsar'a 



OHAPTER XXXIV. 



*' Haying a tongae roagh as a cat, and bitîng like an adder, 
and ail their reproofs are direct scoldings, their common inter" 
course is open contomely." — Jebemt Taylob, 

"Though last^ not least of nature's works, I must 
now introduce you to a frîend of mine," saîd Mr. 
Douglaç, as, the Bailie having made hîs bow, they 
bent their steps towards the Castle HilL ''Mrs. 
Violet Macshake is an aunt of my mother's, whom 
you must of ten hâve heard of , and the last remaining 
branch of the noble race of GimachgowL" 

"I am afraid she is rather a formidable person, 
thenf" saîd Mary. 

Her uncle hesitated. ''No, not formidable-— only 
rather particular, as ail old people are; but she is 
very good-hearted." 

" I understand, in other words, she is very disagree- 
able. AU ill-tempered people, I observe, hâve the 
character of being good-hearted; or else ail good 
people are ill-tempered, I can't tell whicL" 

"It is more than réputation with her," saîd Mr. 
Douglas, somewhat angrîly : "for she is, in reaUty, 
a very good-hearted woman, as I experienced when a 
boy at collega Many a crown pièce and half-goinea 



HÀRBIA6E. 333 

I used to get from her. Many a scold, to be sure, 
went along wîth them; but that, I daresay, I deserved. 
Besides, she is very tich, and I am her reputed heir ; 
tberef ore gratitude and self-interest combine to render 
her oxtremely amiable in my estimation.» 

They had now reached the airy dwelUng where 
Mrs. Macsbake resided, and having rung, the door 
was at length most deliberately opened by an ancient^ 
sour-visaged, long-waisted female, who ushered them 
into an apartment^ the oofwp cPœil of which struck a 
chill to Mary's heart It was a good-sized room, with 
a bare sJSiency of small-leggti dining-UbS and 
lank haîrcloth chairs, ranged in high order round the 
walls. Although the season was advanced, and the 
air piercing cold, the grate stood smiling in ail the 
channs of polished steel; and the mistress of the 
mansion was seated by the side of it in an arm-chair, 
still in its summer position. She appeared to hâve 
no other occupation than what her own méditations 
afiforded ; for a single glance sufficed to show that not a 
vestige of book or work was harboured there. She was 
a tall, large-boned woman, whom even Time's iron hand 
scarcely bent, as she merely stooped at the shoulders. 
She had a drooping snufiy nose, a long turned-up chin, 
small quick gray eyes, and her face projected far 
beyond her figure, with an expression of shrewd rest- 
less curiosity. She wore a mode (not à-la-mode) 
bonnet, and cardinal of the same, a pair of clogs ovei 
her shoes, and black silk mittens on her arms. 

As soon as she recognised Mr. Douglas she wel* 



334 MABBIÂGK 

comed him with much cordîality, shook hîm long and 
heartily by the hand, patted him on the back, looked 
înto his face with much seeming satisfaction ; and, in 
short, gave ail the démonstrations of gladness usual 
with gentlewomen of a certain âge. Her pleasure, 
however, appeared to be rather an im;promptu than 
an habituai f eeling ; for as the surprise wore off her 
visage resumed its harsh and saxcastic expression, and 
she seemed eager to efface any agreeable impression 
her réception might hâve excited. 

"An' wha thought o* seein ye enowî" said she, in 
a quick gabbling voica " What's brought you to the 
toon) Are ye come to spend your honest faither's 
siller ère he's weel cauld in his grave, puir man f * 

Mr. Douglas explained that it was upon account of 
his niece's healtL 

"Health!" repeated she, / with a sardonic smile; 
"it wad mak' an ool laugh to hear the wark ihat's 
made aboot young f owk's health noo-a-days. I wonder 
what ye*re aw made o' " — grasping Mary's arm in her 
gi'eat bony hand — " a wheen puir f eckless windlestraes ; 
ye maun awa' to Ingland for ye're healths. Set ye up ! 
I wonder what cam' o' the lasses i' my time, that bute 
to bide at hame? And whilk o' ye, I sude like to 
ken, 11 ère leive to see ninety-sax, like me î Health ! 
— he, he!" 

Mary, glad of a pretence to indulge the mirth the 
old lady's manner and appearance had excited, joined 
most heartily in the laugh. 

" Tak aîff ye're bannet, baira, an' let me see ye're 



. MAERIAGB. 335 

face. Wha can tell what like ye are wi' that snule o' 
a thing on ye're headî" Then after taking an accurate 
survey of her face, she pushed aside her pelisse. 
"Weel, it's ae mercy, I see ye hae neither the red 
heed nor the muckle cuits o' the Douglases. I ken 
nae whuther ye're f aither had them or no. I ne'er set 
een on him ; neither him nor his braw leddie thought 
it worth their while to speer after me ; but I was at 
nae loss, by aw accounts." 

" You hâve not asked after any of your Glenf em 
friends," said Mr. Douglas, hoping to touch a more 
sympathetic chord. 

"Time eneugh. WuU ye let me draw my breath, 
man? Fowk canna say awthing at ance. An' ye 
bute to hae an Inglish wif e tu ; a Scotch lass wad nae 
serr ye. An' ye're wean, l'se warran', it's ane o' tho 
warld's wonders ; it's been unco lang o' cummin — he, 
he!" 

" He has begun life under very melancholy auspices, 
poor fellow!" said Mr. Douglas, in allusion to his 
father's death. 

"An* wha's faut was thatî I ne'er heard tell tho 
like o't ; to hae the baim kirsened an' its grandfather 
deein ! But fowk are naither bom, nor kirsened, nor 
do they wad or dee as they used to du — awthing's 
changed." 

" You must, indeed, hâve witnessed many changes," 
observed Mr. Douglas, rather at a loss how to utter 
anything of a conciliatory nature. 

"Changes! — weel a wat^ I sometimes wonder if 



336 MÀBRIAGE. 

it's the same warld, an' if it's my ain heed that's 
upon my shoothera." 

''But with thèse changes you must also hâve 
seen many improvements t" said Mary, in a tone of 
diffidence. 

" Impruvements î" tuming sharply round upon her; 
" what ken ye about impruvements, baim î A bony 
impruvement or ens no, to see tyleyors and sclaters 
leavin whar I ndnd jewks an yerl& An' that great 
glowrin' new toon there " — ^pointing out of her Windows 
— " whar I used to sit an' luck oot at bonny green parks, 
and see the coos milket^ and the bits o' baimies row- 
in' an' tummlin,' an' the lasses trampin i' their tubs — 
what see I noo, but stane an' lime, an' stoor an' dirt^ 
an' idle cheels, an' dinkelroot madams prancin'. Im- 
pruvements, indeedl" 

Mary found she was not likely to advance her 
uncle's fortune by the judiciousness of her remarks, 
theref ore prudently resolred to hazard no more. Mr. 
Douglas, who was more au faJU to the préjudices of 
old âge, and who was always amused with her bitter 
remarks when they did not touch himself, encouraged 
her to continue the conversation by some observation 
on the prevailing manners. 

"Mainers!" repeated she, with a contemptuous 
laugh, " what caw ye mainers noo, for I dinna ken f 
nk ane gangs bang in tîll their neebor's hoose, and 
bang oot o't as it war a chynge-hoose ; an' as for the 
maister o't, he's no o' sae muckle vaalu as the flunky 
ahynt his chyre. T my grandf ather's time, as I hae 



MABBIAaB. 337 

heard him tell, ilka maîster o' a faamily had bis aîn 
sate in bis ain hoose aye, an' sat wi' his bat on bis 
beed afore tbe best o' tbe land, an' bad bis ain disb, 
an' was aye belpit first^ an' keepit up bis owtbority as 
a man sude du. Paurents war paurents tben ; baimes 
dardna set up tbeir gabs afore tbem than as tbej du 
noo. Tbey ne'er presumed to i^ay tbeir beeds war 
tbeir ain i' tbae days — ^wîf e an' servants, reteeners an' 
cbilder, aw trummelt i' tbe présence o' tbeir beed." 

Hère a long pincb of snnff caused a pause in tbe 
old lady's barangue ; but after baying duly wiped ber 
nose witb ber coloured bandkercbief, and sbook off 
ail tbe particles tbat migbt be presumed to baye 
lodged upon ber cardinal, sbe resumed — 

** An' nae word o' ony o' your sisters gaun to get 
husbands yet î Tbey tell me tbe/re but coorse lasses : 
an' wba'll tak ill-f arred tocberless queans wban tbere's 
waltb o' bonny faces an' lang purses i' tbe market — 
be, be!" Tben resuming ber scrutiny of Mary — 
** An' l'se warran' ye'll be lucken for an Inglisb sweet- 
beart tu ; tbat'U be wbat's takin' ye awa' to Ingland." 

" On tbe contrary," said Mr. Douglas, seeing Mary 
was too mucb frigbtened to answer for berself — " on 
tbe contrary, Mary déclares sbe will never marry any 
but a true Higblander — one wbo wears tbe dirk and 
plaid, and bas tbe second-sigbt And tbe nuptîals 
are to be celebrated witb ail tbe pomp of feudal 
times; witb bagpipes, and bonfires, and gatberings 
of dans, and roasted sbeep, and barrels of wbisky, 
and " 

YGU L Z M. 



338 MARRIAGE. 

"Weel a wat, an' she's i' the right there," inter- 
mpted Mrs. Macshake, with more complacency than 
she had yet shown. " They may caw them what they 
like, but there's nae waddins noo. Wha's the better o' 
them but imikeepers and chise-drivers î I wud nae 
count myseF married i' the hiddlins way they gang 
aboot it noo.** 

" I daresay you remember thèse things done în a 
very diflEerent style ?" said Mr. Douglas. 

" I dînna mind them whan they war at the best ; 
but I hae heard my mither tell what a bonny ploy 
was at her waddin. I canna tell ye hoo mony was at 
it ; mair nor the room wad haud, ye may be sure, for 
every relation an' freend o' baith sides war there, as 
well they sude ; an' aw in full dress : the leddies in 
their hoops round them, an' some o' them had sutten 
up aw night till hae their heeds drest; for they hadnae 
thae pooket-like taps ye hae noo," looking with con- 
tempt at Mar/s Grecian contour. "An' the bride'a 
goon was aw shewed ow'r wi* faveurs, f rae the tap doon 
to the taU, an' aw roond the neck, an' aboot the sleeves; 
and, as soon as the ceremony was ow'r, ilk ane ran till 
her, an' rugget an' rave at her for the faveurs, till they 
hardly left the claise upon her back. Than they did 
nae run awa as they du noo, but sax mi' thretty o* 
them sat doon till a graund denner, and there was a 
bail at night, an' ilka night till Sabbath cam' roond ; 
an' than the bride an' the bridegroom, drest in their 
waddin suits, an' aw their freends in theirs, wi' their 
favours on their breests, walkit in procession till the 



MABBUGE» 339 

kirk. An' was nae that something lîke a waddin ? It 
was wortih while to be marrîed i* thae <iays — ^he, he!" 

" The wedding seems to hâve been admirably con- 
ducted," said Mr. Douglas, with mach solenmity, 
*' The christening, I présume, would be the next dis- 
tinguîshed event in the f amily 1 " 

"Troth, Archie — an' ye sude keep your thoomb 
upon kîrsnins as lang's ye leeve ; yours was a bonnie 
kirsnin or ens no ! I hae heard o' mony things, but 
a baim kirsened whan its grandfaîther was i' the 
deed-thraw, I ne'er heard tell o' before." Then 
observîng the indignation that spread over Mr. 
Douglas's face, she quickly resumed, " An' so ye think 
the kirsnin was the neist ploy 1 — He, he ! Na ; the 
cryin was a ploy, for the leddies did nae keep them- 
sels up than as they do noo ; but the day after the 
baim was bom, the leddy sat up i' her bed, wi' her 
fan intiU her hand ; an' aw her f reends cam' an' stud 
roond her, an' drank her health an' the baim'& 
Than at the leddy's recovery there was a graund 
supper gien that they caw'd the cummerfealls, an' 
there was a great pyramid o' hens at the tap o' the 
table, an' anither pyramid o' ducks at the fit, an' a 
muckle stoup fu' o' posset i' the middle, an' aw kinds 
o' sweeties doon the sides ; an' as sune as ilk ane had 
eatin their fill they aw flew till the sweeties, an' f ought, 
an' strave, an' wrastled for them, leddies an' gentle- 
men an' aw ; for the brag was wha could pocket maist ; 
an' whiles they wad hae the claith afF the table, an' aw 
thing i' the middle i' the floor, an' the chyres upside 



340 KABBIAaB. 

doon. Oo I muckle gude diversion, Fse warran,' was 
at the cummerfeaUs, Than whan they had drank the 
stoup dry, that ended the ploy. As for the kirsnin, 
that was aye whar it sude be — ^î' the hoose o' God, 
an' aw the kith an' kin bye in f ull dress, an' a band o' 
maiden cimmers aw in white ; an' a bonny sight it was, 
as l've heard my mither telL" 

Mr. Douglas, who was now rather tired of the old 
lady's réminiscences, arailed himself of the opportonity 
of a fresh pinch to rise and take leave. 

"Oo, what's takin' ye awa, Archie, in sic a hurry t 
Sit doon there," laying her hand upon his arm, " an' 
rest ye, an' tak a glass o' wine, an' a bit breed ; or 
may be," tuming to Mary, " ye wad rather hae a drap 
broth to warm ye. What gars ye luck sae blae, baim 1 
Pm sure it's no cauld ; but ye're juste like the lave ; ye 
gang aw skiltin aboot the streets half naked, an' than ye 
maun sit an' birsle ypursels afore the fire at hame." 

She had now shuffled along to the farther end of 
the room, and opening a press, took out wine, and a 
plateful of various-shaped articles of bread, which she 
handed to Mary. 

" Hae, baim — ^tak a cookie ; tak it up — ^what are 
you fear'd for? It'll no bite ya Here's t'ye, Glen- 
f em, an' your wif e, an' your wean, puir tead j it's no 
had a very chancy ootset, weel a wat" 

The wine being drunk, and the cookies discussed, 
Mr. Douglas made another attempt to withdraw, but 
in vain. 

" Canna ye sit still a wee, man, an' let me spear 



MABBIAGK 341 

after my atdd freens at Glenfeml Hoo's Grizzjr, an* 
Jacky, and Nicky 1 Aye workin awa at the piÙs an' 
ihe drogs ? — ^he, he ! I ne'er swallowed a pîll, nor gied 
a doit for drogs aw my days, an' see an ony of themll 
rin a race wi' me whan they're naur five score." 

Mr. Douglas hère paid her some compliments upon 
lier appearance, which were pretty graciously received; 
and added that he was the bearer of a letter from his 
Aunt Grizzy, which he would send along with a roe- 
buck and brace of moor-gama 

"Gin your roebuck's nae better than your last^ 
atweel it*s no worth the sendin' — poor dry fisinless 
dirt, no worth the chowing ; weel a wat I begradged 
my teeth on't Your muirfowl was na that ill, but 
the/re no worth the carryin ; they're dong cheap i' 
the market enoo, so iVs nae great compliment Gin 
ye had brought me a leg o' gude muttoni or a cauler 
sawmont, there would hae been some sensé in't ; but 
ye're ane o' the f owk that'll ne'er hany yoursel' wi' 
your présents ; it's but the pickle poother they cost 
you, an* Tse warran' ye're thinldn mair o' your ain 
diversion than o* my stamick, when ye're at the 
ahootin' o' them, puir beast&" 

Mr. Douglas had borne the varions indignitîes 
levelled against himself and his family with a philo- 
sophy that had no parallel in his lif e bef ore ; but to 
this attack upon his game he was not proof. His 
oolour rose, his eyes flashed fire, and something re- 
sembling an oath burst from his lips as he stiode 
inâignantly towards the door. 



342 MAItRIAGE. 

His friend, however, was too nimble for hîm. She 
stepped before him, and, breaking into a discordant 
laugh, as she patted him on the back, " So I see ye're 
just the auld man, Archie, — aye ready to tak the 
strums, an' ye dinna get a' thing yer ain wya Mony 
a time I had to fleech ye oot o' the dorts whan ye was 
a callant Div ye mind hoo ye was affronted because 
I set ye doon to a cauld pigeon-pie, an' a tanker o' 
tippenny, ae night to yeVe fowerhoors, afore some 
leddies — he, he, he ! Weel a wat, yer wif e maun hae 
her aîn adoos to manage ye, for ye're a cumstairy 
chîeld, Archie." 

Mr. Douglas stîll looked as if he was irresolute 
whether to laugh or be angry. 

" Corne, corne, sit ye doon there till I speak to this 
baim," said she, as she pulled Mary into an adjoining 
bedchamber, which wore the same aspect of chilly 
neatness as the one they had quitted. Then pullîng 
a huge bunch of keys from her pocketj she opened a 
drawer, out of which she took a pair of diamond ear- 
rings. "Hae, baim," said she as she stuffed them 
into Mary's hand ; " they belanged to your faither's 
grandmother. She was a gude woman, an' had four- 
an'-twenty sons an' dochters, an* I wiss ye nae war 
fortin than just to hae as mony. But mind ye," with 
a shake of her bony finger, " they maun a' be Scots. 
Gin I thought ye wad mairry ony pock-puddin', fient 
haed wad ye hae gotten frae ma "Noo, had ye're 
tongue, and dinna deive me wi* thanks," almost push- 
ing her into the parleur agaîn ; " and sin ye're gaun 



MABRUGE. 34 



9 



awa the mom, 111 see nae mair o* ye enoo—nso fare ye 
weel. But, Archie, ye maun corne an' tak your break- 
fast wi' me. I hae muckle to say to you; but ye 
manna be sae hard upon my baps as ye used to be," 
with a f acetîous grin to her mollified favourite, as they 
shook hands and parted. 

"Well, how do you like Mrs. Macshake, Maryf 
asked her uncle as they walked home. 

"That is a cruel question, uncle," answered she, 
with a smile. " My gratitude and my taste are at 
Buch variance," displaying her splendid gift, " that 1 
know not how to reconcile them." 

" Thaji is always the case with those whom Mrs. 
Macshake has obliged," retumed Mr. Douglas. " She 
does many libéral things, but in so ungracious a 
manner that people are never sure whether they are 
obliged or insulted by her. But the way in which 
she reçoives kindness is still worse. Gould an3rthing 
equal her impertinence about my roebuck? Faîth, 
IVe a good mind never to enter her door agaîn !" 

Mary could scarcely préserve her gravity at her 
uncle's indignation, which seemed so disproportioned 
ùo the cause. But, to tum the current of his ideas, 
she remarked that he had certainly been at pains to 
sélect two admirable spécimens of her countrywomen 
for her. 

"I don't think I shaU soon forget either Mrs. 
Gawffaw or Mrs Macshake," said she, laughing. 

" I hope you won't carry away the impression that 
thèse two limis naiurœ are spécimens of Scotchwomen, " 



su MAUBIÀGE. 

said her unda *'The former, indeed, is rather a sort 
of weed that inf esta eyery soil ; the latter, to be sure, 
is an indigenous plant I question if she would hâve 
arrived at such perfection in a more cultirated field 
or génial clima She was bom at â time when 
Scotland was very différent from what it is now. 
Female éducation was little attended to, even in 
f amilies of the highest rank ; consequently, the ladies 
of those days possess a radness in their manners and 
ideas that we should vainly seek for in this âge of 
cultivation and refinement Had your time permitted, 
you could hâve seen much good sodely hère; superior, 
perhaps, to what is to be f ound anywhere else, as far 
as mental cultivation is concemed But you will 
bave leisure for that when you retum" 

Mary acquiesced with a sigL Beùum was to her 
still a melancholy-sounding word. It reminded her 
of ail she had left — of the anguish of séparation — ^the 
dreariness of absence ; and ail thèse paînful feelings 
were renewed in their utmost bittemess when the 
time approached for her to bid adieu to her uncle. 
Lord Courtland's carnage and two respectable-looking 
servants awaited her; and the foUowing moming she 
commenced her joumey in ail the agony of a heart 
that f ondly clings to its native home. 



END OF YOU L 



MÂBBIAOE. 



OHAPTER L 

•* Nor only by the warmfh 

And Bootldng sanshme of delightfiil thingn, 

Do minds grow up and flouiiah." 

Akensids. 

AroSR parting with the last of her beloyed relatires 
Maiy tried to thînk only of the happîness that awaîted 
her in a réunion with her mother and sister ; and she 
gave herself up to the blissful rêveries of a young and 
ardent imagination. Mrs. Douglas had sought to 
lepress, rather than excite, her sanguine expectations ; 
bat vaînly is the expérience of others employed in 
moderating the enthusiasm of a glowing heart Expéri- 
ence eaamot be imparted. We may render the youth- 
fol mind prematurely cautious, or meanly suspicious ; 
but the expérience of a pure and enlightened mind is 
the resuit of observation, matured by time. 

The joumey, like most modem journeys, was per- 
formed in comf ort and safety ; and, late one evening, 
Mary f ound herself at the goal of her wishes — at the 
threshold of the house that contained her mother! 

YOL. IL B M. 



3 MABBIAGE. 

One idea fîlled her mind ; but that idea called np a 
tihousand émotions. 

"I am now to meet my mother!'* thought she; 
and, imconscîous of everything else, she was assîsted 
from the carnage, and conducted into the house. A 
door was thrown open ; but shrinking from the glare 
of lîght and sound of voices that assailed her, she 
stood dazzled and dismayed, tîll she beheld a figure 
approaching that she guessed to be her mother. Her 
heart beat violently — a fihn was upon her eyes — she 
made an effort to reach her mother's arms, and sank 
lifeless on her bosom ! 

Lady Julîana, for such it was, doubted not but 
that her daughter was really dead; for though she 
talked of fainting every hour of the day herself, stîll 
what îs emphatîcally called a dead-fairit was a spectacle 
no less strange than shockîng to her. She was there- 
fore sufficiently alarmed and overcome to behave in a 
very înteresting manner ; and some yeamings of pily 
even possessed her heart as she beheld her daughter^s 
lifeless form extended before her — her beautîful, 
though inanimate f eatures, half hid by the profusion 
of golden ringlets that fell around her. But thèse 
kindly f eelings were of short duration ; for no sooner 
was the nature of her daughter's insensîbility ascer- 
tained, than ail her former hostility retumed, as she 
found every one's attention directed to Mary, and she 
herself entirely overlooked in the gênerai interest she 
had excited; and her dîspleasure was stiU further 
increased as Mary, at length slowly unclosing her 



HABKULGB. S 

ejeSj stretched out her hands, and f aintly articiilateâ, 
"Mymother!" 

"Mother! What ahideous vulgar appellation!" 
thought the fashionable psûrent to herself ; and, instead 
of answering her daughter's appeal, she hastily pro- 
posed that she should be conveyed to her own apart- 
ment; thei, auxnmoning her mlid. she consigned her 
to her care, slîghtly touching her cheek as she wished 
her good-night, and retumed to the card-tabla Adé- 
laïde too resumed her station at the harp, sa if nothing 
had happened : but Lady Emily attended her cousin 
to her ^om, embraced her a^x and again, aa she 
assured her she loved her already, she was so like her 
dear Edward; then, after satisfying herself that every- 
thing was comf ortable, affectionately kissed her, and 
withdrew. 

Bodily fatigue got the better of mental agitation ; 
and Mary slept soundly, and awoke refreshed. 

'^ Gan it be/' thought she, as she tried to collect hei 
bewildered thoughts, '^can it be that I hâve really 
beheld my mother, that I hâve been pressed to her 
hearty that she has shed tears over me while I lay un- 
conscious in her arms ? Mother ! What a delightful 
Sound ; and how beautiful she seemed ! Yet I hâve 
no distinct idea of her, my head was so conf used ; but 
I hâve a vague recollection of something very fair, and 
beautiful, and aeraph-like, covered with rilver drapery. 
and flowers, and with the sweetest voice in the world. 
Yet that must be too young for my mother ; perhapa 
it was my sister ; and my mother was too much over* 



4 MABBIiLOXL 

corne to meet her stranger chilcL Oli, liow happy 
must I be with such a mother and sister !" 

In thèse delightfol cogitations Mary remained tîll 
Lady Ëmily entered. 

^ How well you look tfais moniing, my dear consiD,'' 
said she, flying to her; '^yon are mach more like my 
Edward than you were last night. Ahl and you 
hâve got his smile too I You must let me see that 
very often." 

*'I am sure I shall hâve cause," said Maiy, retam- 
ing her cousin's affectîonate embrace ; " but at présent 
I feel anxious about my mother and sister. The 
agitation of our meeting and my weakness, I fear it 
has been too much for them;" and she looked eamesdy 
in Lady Emil/s face for a confirmation of her f eara 

'' Indeed, you need be under no uneasiness on their 
account^" retumed her cousin, with her usiud Uunt- 
ness; "their feelings are not so easily disturbed; you 
will see thém both at breakfast» so come along." 

The room was empty ; and again Mary's sensitiTO 
heart trembled for the welf are of those already so 
dear to her; but Lady Emily did not appear to 
understand the nature of her f eeling& 

** Haye a little patience, my dear !" said she, with 
something of an impatient tone, as she rang for break- 
fast; " they will be hère at their usual time. Nobody 
in this house is a slave to hours, or gêné with each 
oiher's sodety. Liberty is the motto hère; eveiy- 
body breakfasts when and where they please. Lady 
Juliana, I believe, frequently takes hers in her dress- 



UABBIÂQIB. B 

ing-room; Papa never is visible tOl tw^o or ihree 
o'dock ; and Adelaide is always lata" 

''What a selfish cold-hearted thing is grandeur!" 
thonght Mary, as Lady Emily and she sat like two 
specks in the splendid saloon, surrounded by ail that 
wealth coold pnrchase or luxury invent; and her 
thoughts reverted to the pions thanksgiving and 
affectionate meeting that graced their social meal in 
the sweet sunny parleur at Lochmarlie. 

Some of those airy nothings, without a local habi- 
tation, who are always to be f ound flitting about the 
mansions of the great^ now lounged into the room; 
and soon after Adelaide made her enJtfrie, Mary, 
trembling violently, was ready to f aU upon her sister's 
neck, but Adelaide seemed prepared to repel every- 
thing like a bù^m; for, with a cold, but sweet^ " I hope 
you are better this moming?" she seated herself at 
the opposite side of the table. Mar/s blood rushed 
back to her heart ; her eyes âlled with tears, she knew 
not why ; for she could not analyse the f eelings that 
swelled in her bosom. She would hâve shuddered to 
tlmk her sister unkind, but she fdt she was sa 

"It can only be the différence of our manners," 
sighed she to herself \ *' I am sure my sister loves me, 
though she does not show it in the same way I should 
hâve donc;" and she gazed with the purest admira- 
tion and tendemess on the matchless beauty of her 
face and fonn. Never had she beheld anything so 
exquisitely beautiful; and she longed to throw her< 
self into her sister's arms and tell her how she loved 



6 MARRIAGE. 

her. Bat Âdelaide seemed to think the présent Com- 
pany whoUy unworthy of her regard ; for, af ter hav- 
ing receîved the adulation of the gentlemen, as they 
severally paîd her a profusion of compliments upon 
her appearance, *' Désire Tomldns," saîd she to a 
footman, "to ask Lady Juliana for the 'Moming 

Postj' and the second volume of *Le ,' of the 

French novel I am reading ; and say she shall haye 
it again when I hâve finished it" 

"In what différent terms people may express the 
same meaning/' thought Mary; "had I been sending 
a message to my mother, I should hâve expressed 
myself quite différently; but no doubt my sister's 
meaning is the same, though she may not use the 
same words." 

The servant retumed with the newspaper, and the 
novel would be sent when it could be found. 

"Lady Juliana never reads like anybody else,** 
said her daughter ; " she is for ever misla3dng books. 
She has lost the fîrst volumes of the two last novels 
that came from town before I had even seen them." 

This was uttered in the softest, sweetest tone 
imaginable, and as if she had been pronouncing a 
panegyric. 

Mary was more and more puzzled. 

" What can be my sister's meaning hère 1" thought 
she. " The words seemed almost to imply censure ; 
but that voice and smile speak the sweetest praise. 
How tnily Mra Douglas warned me never to judge 
of people by their words." 



ICABBIAGE. 7 

At ihat moment the door opened, and three or 
four dogs nished in, followed by Lady Juliana, wiËh 
a volume of a novel in her hand. Agaîn Mary f ound 
herself assaîled by a variety of powerful émotions. 
She attempted to rise ; but^ pale and breatbless, she 
8ank back in her chair. 

Her agitation was mimarked by her mother, who did 
not even appear to be sensible of her présence ; for, 
with a gracef ul bend of her head to the company in 
gênerai, she approached Adélaïde, and putting her lips 
to her f orehead, " How do you do, love î l'm afraid you 

are very angry with me about that teazing La 

I can't conçoive where it can be ; but hère is the third 
volume, which is much prettier than the second." 

" I certainly shall not read the third volume bef ore 
the second," said Adelaide with her usual serenity. 

** Then I shall order another copy from town, my 
love ; or I daresay I could tell you the story of the 
second volume : it is not at ail interesting, I assure 
you. Hermilisde, you know — but I forget where the 
first volume left o&" — ^Then directing her eyes to 
Mary, who had summoned strength to rise, and was 
slowly venturing to approach her, she extended a 
finger towards her. Mary eagerly seized her mother's 
hand, and pressed it with ferveur to her lips ; then 
hid her face on her shoulder to conceal the tears that 
burst from her eyes. 

** Absurd, my dear ! " said her Ladyship in a peevish 
tone, as she disengaged herself from her daughter; 
^you must really get the better of this foolish weak- 



8 MABRIÂ.a& 

ness ; thèse aehies are too much for ma I was most 
ezcessively shocked last night^ I assure you, and you 
ought not to hâve quitted your room to-day." 

Poor Mary's tears congealed in her eyes at thia 
tender salatatîon, and she raised her head, as if to 
ascertain whether ît really proceeded from her mother; 
but instead of the angelic vision she had pictured to 
herself, she beheld a face which, though once hand- 
some, now conveyed no pleasurable feehng to the 
heart 

Late hours, bad temper, and rouge had done much 
to impair Lady Juliana's beauty. There still remained 
eùough to dazzle a superficial observer; but not to 
satîsfy the eye used to the expression of ail the best 
affections of the souL Mary almost shrank from the 
peevish inanity portrayed on her mother's visage, as 
a glance of the mind contrasted it with the mild 
éloquence of Mrs. Douglas's countenance; and, abashed 
and disappointed, she remained moumfully silent 

" Where is Dr. Eedgill ) '' demanded Lady Juliaoa 
of the Company in général 

" He has got scent of a turtle at Admirai TeîDow- 
chops," answered Mr. P. 

" How vastly provoking," rejoined her Ladyduii^ 
<^ that he should be out of the way the only time I 
hâve wished to see him since he came to the housel" 

*'Who is this favoured individuel whose absence 
you are so pathetically lamenting, Julia 1 " asked Loid 
Courtland, as he indolently sauntered into the room 

'*That disagreeable Dr. EedgilL He has gone 



KABBIAGS. 9 

flomewliere to eat turde at the very time I wiahed to 
consult hîm about- " 

"The propriety of introducing a new nîece to your 
Lordship," said Lady Emily, as, with affected solem- 
sity, she introduced Maiy to her uncla Lady Juliana 
frowned — ^the Earl smiled — saluted his nièce — ^hoped 
she had recovered the fatigue of the joumey — re- 
marked it was very cold ; and then tumed to a parrot^ 
hununîng " Pretty PoU, say," eta 

Snch was Mary's first introdactîon to her f amily ; 
and those only who hâve f elt what it was to hâve the 
génial cuirent of their soûls chilled by neglect or 
changed by unMndness can sympathise in the f eelings 
of wounded affection — when the oyerflowings of a 
gênerons heart are confined within the narrow limits 
of itB own bosom, and the ofiferings of love are rudely 
rejected by the hand most dear to us. 

Mary was too much intimidated by her mother's 
manner towards her to give way, in her présence, to 
the émotions that agitated her ; but she f ollowed her 
sister's steps as she quitted the room, and, throwing 
her arms around her, sobbed in a voice ahnost choked 
with the excess of her f eelings, "My sister, love me ! 
— ohl love me!'' But Âdelaide's heart, seared by 
selfishness and vanity, was incapable of loving any- 
thing in which self had no share ; and for the first 
dme in her lif e she f elt awkward and embarrassed. 
Her sister's streaming eyes and suppHcating voice 
spoke a language to which she was a stranger; for 
art is ever averse to recognise the accents of nature. 



10 IfABBIAGE. 

Still less is it capable of replyîng to them; and 
Adélaïde could only wonder at her sister's agitation, 
and think how unpleasant it was ; and say something 
about overcome, and eau-de-luce^ and composure; which 
was ail lost upon Mary as she hung apon her neck, 
every feeling wrought to its highest tone by the com- 
plicated nature of those émotions which sweUed her 
heart At length, making an effort to regain her com- 
posure, "Forgive me, my sister!" said sha "Thia 
is very foolish — ^to weep when I ought to rejoice — •' 
and I do rejoice — and I know I shall be so happy 
yet !" but in spite of the faint smile that accompanied 
her words, tears again burst from her eyes. 

" I am sure I shall bave infinité pleasure in your 
sodety," replied Adelaide, with her usual sweetness 
and placidity, as she replaced a ringlet in its proper 
position j '' but* I hâve unluckily an engagement at 
this tima You will, however, be at no loss for amuser 
ment; you will find musical instruments there," point- 
ing to an adjacent apartment; *'and hère are new 
publications, and portefeuilles of drawings you will 
perhaps like to look over;" and so saying she dia- 
appeared. 

"Musical instruments and new publications!" 
repeated Mary mechanically to hersell '* What hâve 
I to do with themf Oh for one kind word from 
my motiier's Ups !— one kind glance from my sister'A 
eye!" 

And she remained overwhelmed with the weight 
of those émotions, which, instead of pouring into the 



MARRIÀGE. 11 

I 

hearts of others, she was compelled to concentrate in 
her own. Her mouniful rêveries were întemipted by 
her kind friend Lady Emily ; but Mary deemed her 
sorrow too sacred to be betrayed even to her, and 
therefore rallying her spirits, she strove to enter into 
those schemes of amusement suggested by her cousin 
for passing the day. But she f ound herself unable for 
such continued exertîon ; and, hearing a large party 
was expected to dinner, she retired, in spite of Lady 
Emily's remonstrance, to her own apartment, where 
she sought a refuge from her thoughts in writîng to 
her friends at Glenf em. 

Lady Juliana looked in upon her as she passed to 
dinner. She was in a better humour, for she had 
receiréd a new dress which was paxticularly becoming, 
as both her maid and her glass had attested. 

Âgain Mary's heart bounded towards the being to 
whom she owed her birth ; yet afraid to give utterance 
to her feelings, she could only regard her with sîlent 
admiration, till a moment's considération converted 
that into a less pleasing feeling, as she observed for 
the first time that her mother wore no mouming. 

Lady Juliana saw her astonishment^ and, little 
gucssing the cause, was flattered by it " Your style 
of dress is very obsolète, my dear," said she, as she 
contrasted the effect of her own figure and her 
daughter's in a large mirror ; *' and there's no occasion 
for you to wear black hère. I shall désire my woman 
to order some things for you ; though perhaps there 
won't be much occasion, as your stay hère is to be 



12 



KARRIAGE. 



short; and of course you won't thînk of going ont al 
alL ApropoSf you will find it dull hère by yourself, 
won't you 1 I shall leave you my darling Blanche for a 
companion/' kissing a little French lap-dog as she laid 
it in Mary's lap ; " only you must be very careful of 
her, and coax her, and be very, very good to her ; for 
I would not hâve my sweetest Blanche vexed, not 
for the world !" Ând, with another long and tender 
sainte to her dog, and a " Good-bye, my dear !" to her 
daughter, she quitted her to display her charms to a 
brilliant drawing-room, leaving Mary to solace herself 
in her soHtary chamber with the whines of a 
tented lap-dog. 






OHAPTER n. 

"Cfest un peraonnage illustre dans son genre, et qui ft porté 
1» talent de se bien nourir jnsques où il pouyoit aller ; ... il 
ne semble né que pour la digestion." — La BBinrsBS. 

In eveiy season of lif e grief brîngs its own peculîar 
antidote along with it The buoyancy of youth soon 
repéb its deadening weîght^ the firmness of manhood 
recdsts its weakening influence, the torpor of old âge is 
insensible to its most acute pangs. 

In spite of the disappointment she had experienced 
the preceding day, Mary arose the f ollowing moming 
with fresh hopes of happiness springîng in her heart 

"What a fool I was," thought she, "to view so 
seiionsly what^ after ail, must be merely différence 
of manner ; and how illiberal to expect every one's 
manners should accord exactly with my ideas; but 
now that I hâve got over the first impression, I dare 
say I shall find everybody quite amiable and de- 
lightfull" 

And Mary quicUy reasoned herself into the belief 
that she only could hâve been to blâma With reno- 
yated spirits she therefore joined her cousin, and 
accompanied her to the breakfasting saloon. The 
Yiflttors had ail departed, but Dr. Kedgill had retumed. 



14 HABRUGS. 

and seemed to be at the winding ap of a solitary but 
voluminous meaL He was a very tall corpulent man, 
with a projecting fronts large purple nose, and a pro- 
fusion of chin. 

" Good momîng, ladîes," mumbled he with a full 
mouth, BB he made a feint of half-rising f rom his chair. 
" Lady Emily, your servant — Miss Douglas, I présume 
— hem ! allow me to pull the bell for your Ladyship," 
as he sat without stirring hand or foot ; then, after it 
was donc — " Ton my honour, Lady Emily, this is not 
using me welL Why did you not désire me t And 
you are so nimble, I defy any man to get the start of 
you." 

'* I know you hâve been upon hard service, Doctor, 
and therefore I humanely wished to spare you any 
additional fatigue," replied Lady Emily. 

" Fatigue, phoo ! l'm sure I mind fatigue as litUe 
as any man ; besides it's really nothing to speak o£ 
I hâve merely rode from my friend Admirai Yellow- 
chops' this morning." 

'^ I hope you passed a pleasant day there yester- 
day?" 

" So, so — very so, so," retumed the Doctor drily. 

" Only so, so, and a turtle in the case !" exclaimed 
Lady Emily. 

"Phoo! — ^as to that, the turtle was neither hère 
nor thera I value turtle as little as any man. • Tou 
may be sure it wasn't for that I went to see my old 
friend Yellowchops. It happened, indeed, that ttiero 
was a turtle, and a very well dressed one too; but 






MABRIAOE. 15 

wheie five and thirty people (one half of them ladîes, 
who, of course, are always helped first) sit down to 
dinner, there's an end of ail ratîonal happiness in my 
opinion." 

''But at a turile feast you hâve surely something 
much better. You know you may bave ratîonal 
happiness any day over a beef-steak.'' 

"I beg your pardon — ^that's not sucb an easy 
matter. I can assure you it is a work of no small 
skill to dress a beef-steak handsomely; and, moreover, 
to eat it in perfection a man must eat it by himself. 
If once you corne to exchange words over it^ it is use- 
less. I once saw the finest steak I ever clapped my eyes 
upon completely ruined by one silly scoundrel asking 
another if he liked fat If he liked fati — what a 
question for one rational being to ask another ! The 
fact is, a beef-steak is like a woman's réputation, if 
once it is breathed upon it's good for nothing !" 

" One of the stories with which my nurse used to 
amuse my childhood," said Mary, " was that of having 
seen an itinérant conjurer dress a beef-steak on his 
tongua** 

The Doctor suspended the morsel he was carrying 
to his mouth, and for the first time regarded Mary 
with looks of unf eigned admiration. 

'' Ton my honour, and that was as dever a trick as 
ever I heard of 1 You are a wonderf ul people, you 
Scotch — a very wonderful people — ^but, pray, was she 
at any pains to examine the f elloVs tongue 1 " 

"I imagine not^" said Mary; "I suppose the love 



16 MABBIAGE. 

of science was not strong enough to make her run ihe 
risk of buming her fingers.'' 

"It's a thousand pitiés," said the Doctor, as he 
dropped his chin with an air of disappointment " I 
am surprised none of jour Scotch sçavam got hold of 
the f ellow and squeezed the secret out of him. It 
might hâve proved an important discovery — a veiy 
important discovery; and your Scotch are not apt 
to let anything escape them — ^a veiy searching, shrewd 
people as ever I knew — and that's the only way to 
arrive at knowledg& A man must be of a stirring 
mind if he expects to do good." 

*'A poor woman below wishes to see yon, sir," 
said a servant 

"Thèse poor women are perfect pests to society," 
said the Doctor, as his nose assumed a still darker 
hue ; " there is no resting upon one's seat for them 
— always something the matter! They bnm, and 
bruise, and hack themselves and their brats, one 
would really think, on purpose to give trouble." 

"I hâve not the least doubt of it," said Lady 
Emily ; " they must find your sympathy so soothing." 

"As to that, Lady Emily, if you knew as much 
about poor women as I do, you wouldn't think so 
much of them as you do. Take my word for ît — 
they are one and ail of them a very greedy, ungrateful 
set» and require to be kept at a distança" 

"And also to be kept waiting. As poor people's 
time is their only wealth, I observe you generally 
make them pay a pretty large fee in that way." 



ICABRIÀGE. 17 

^That is really not what I would bave ezpected 
from you, Lady Emily. I must take the liberfcy to 
say your Ladyship does me the greatest injustice* 
YoTi must be sensible how ready I am to fly," risîng 
as if he had been glued to his chair, " when there is 
any real danger. l'm sure it was only last week I 
got up as soon as I had swallowed my dinner to see 
a man who had f allen down in a fit ; and now I am 
going to this woman, who, I daresay, has nothing the 
matter with her, before my breakf ast is well down 
my throat." 

"Who is that gentleman?" asked Mary, as the 
Doctor at length, with much reluctance, shuffled ont 
of the room. 

"He is a sort of médical aid-de-camp of papa's," 
answered Lady Emily; '^who, for the sake of good 
fiving, has got himself completely domesticated hère. 
He is vulgar, selfish, and gourmand^ as you must 
already hâve discovered ; but thèse are accounted his 
greatest perfections, as papa, like ail indolent people, 
must be diyerted — and thai he never is by genteel, 
sensible people. He requires something more piç[iumt, 
and nothing fatigues him so much as the conversation 
of a commonplace, sensible man — one who has the 
skill to keep his foibles out of sight Now what 
delights him in Dr. Bedgill, there i^ no retenu — any 
ehild who mns may read his character at a glance." . 

"It certainly does not require much pénétration," 
laid Mary, " to discover the Doctor's master-passion ; 
love of ease and self-indulgence seem to be the pre- 

VOL. n. c M. 



18 HAKBIAaE. 

dominant f eatores of his mind ; and he looks as if^ 
when he sat in an arm-chaîr, with his toes on the 
f ender and his hands crossed, he would not hâve an 
idea beyond ' I wonder what we shall hâve for dinner 
to-day."' 

"Fm glad to hear you say so, Miss Douglas,'' said 
the Doctor, catching the last words as he entered the 
room, and taking them to be the spontaneons effusions 
of the speaker's own heart ; " I rejoice to hear you 
say so. Suppose we send for the bill of fare," — 
pulling the bell; and then to the servant^ who an- 
swered the summons, "Désire Grillade to send up 
his bill — Miss Douglas wishes to see it" 

" Young ladies are much more housewifely in Scot- 
land than they are in this country/' continued the 
Doctor, seating himself as close as possible to Mary, 
— "at least they were when I knew Scotland; but 
that's not yesterday, and it's much changed since 
then, I daresay. I studied physic in Edinbuigh, and 
went upon a tower through the Highlands. I was 
very much pleased with what I saw, I assure you. 
Fine country in some respects — ^nature has been very 
libéral" 

Mary's heart leapt within her at hearing her dear 
native land praîsed even by Dr. Eedgill, and her con- 
science smote her for the harsh and hasty censure she 
had passed upon hinL "One who can admire the 
scenery of the Highlands," thought she, "must hâve 
a mind. It has always been observed that only 
persons of taste were capable of appreciating the 



MARRIAGIS. 1 9 

peculiar dianns of mountain scenery. A London 
citizen, or a lincolushire grazier, sees nothing but 
deformity in the sublime works of nature," ergo^ 
reasoned Mary, "Dr. Redgill must be of a more 
elevated way of thinking than I had supposed." The 
entnmce of Lady Juliana prevented her expressing 
the feelings that were upon her lips ; but she thought 
what pleasure she would hâve in resuming the delight- 
ful thème at another opportunity. 

Âfter slightly noticing her daughter, and caref uUy 
adjusting her favourites, Lady Juliana began : — 

*' I am anxious to consult you, Dr. Eedgill, upon 
the state of this young person's health. — You hâve 
been excessively ill, my dear, hâve you not? (My 
sweetest Blanche, do be quiet !) You had a cough, I 
think, and everything that was bad. — And as her 
Mends in ScoZd hL sent her to me for a short 
time, entirely on account of her health (My charming 
Frisk, your spirits are really too much !), I think it 
quite proper that she should be confined to her own 
apartment during the winter, that she may get quite 
well and strong against spring. As to visiting or 
goîng into company, that of course must be quite out 
of the question. You can tell Dr. Redgill, my dear, 
ail about your complaints yourself.'' 

Mary tried to articulate, but her feelings rose 
almost to suffocation, and the words died upon her 
lip& 

" Your Ladyship confounds me," saîd the Doctor, 
puUing out his spectacles, which, after duly wiping, 



20 HARBIAGE. 

he adjusted on his nose, and tumed their beams fait 
on Marj's face — "I really never should hâve gaessed 
there was anything the matter with the yoiing lady. 
She dœs look a leettle délicate, to be sure — changing 
colour, too— but hand cool — eye clear — épuise steadj, 
a leeitle impetuous, but that's nothîng, and the appetite 
good. I own I was surprised to see you eut so good 
a figure after the delicious meals you hâve been accua- 
tomed to in the North : you must find it misérable 
pickîng hère. An English breakfast^'' glancing with 
contempt at the eggs, muffins, toast, préserves, eta 
etc., he had coUected round him, "is really a most 
insipid meaL If I did not make a rule of rising early 
and taking regular exercise, I doubt very much if I 
should be able to swallow a mouthful — there's nothing 
to whet the appetite hère ; and it's the same eveiy* 
where; as Yellowchops says, our breàkfasts are a 
disgrâce to England. One would think the whole 
nation was upon a regimen of tea and toast — from 
the Land's End to Berwick-upon-Tweed, nothing but 
tea and toast Your Ladyship must really acknowledge 
the prodigious advantage the Scotch possess over us 
in that respect" 

''I thought the breàkfasts, like everything ébe fai 
Scotland, extremely disgusting," replied her LadyBhip^ 
with indignation. 

''Ha I well, that really amazes ma The people I 
give up — they are dirty and greedy — ^the country, too, 
is a perfect mass of rubbish, and the dinners not fit 
for dogs — the cookery, I mean ; as to the materials, 



Hïisy are admirabla But thé breakfasts! That's 
what redeems the land; and every country bas its 
own pecTiliar exceUenca In Argyleshîre jou hâve 
the Lochfine herrîng, fat^ luscîous, and delidous, just 
ont of the water, f alling to pièces with its own rich- 
ness — ^melting away like butter in your moutL In 
Aberdeenshire you bave the Finnan haddo' with ^ 
flavour ail its own, vastly relishing — ^just sait enough 
to be piquant^ without parching you up with thirst 
In Perthshire there is the Tay salmon, hippered, crisp, 
and juicy— a very magnificent morsel— a leettle heavy, 
but that's easily counteracted by a teaspoonful of the 
Athole whisky. In other places you bave the exqui- 
âte mutton of the country made into hams of a most 
délicate flavour ; flour scones, soft and white ; oatcake, 
thin and crisp ; marmalade and jams of every descrip- 
tion; and — but I beg pardon — your Ladyship was 
upon the subject of this young lady's healtL Ton 
my honour I I can see little the matter. We were 
just going to look over the bOl together when your 
Ladyship entered. I see it begins with that etemal 
wu/pe saniéf and that 'pûiary potagé-a^iHie, This is the 
second day within a week Monsieur Grillade bas 
thought fit to treat us with them ; and it's a fortnight 
yesterday since I bave seen either oyster or turtle 
80up upon the tabl& Ton my honour ! such inatten- 
tion is infamous. I know Lord Courtland detests 
soupe sanUf or, what's the same thing, he's quite indif- 
fèrent to it ; for I take indifférence and dislike to be 
much the same. A man's indifférence to bis dinnei 



22 1CÀBBU01B. 

is a serious thing, and so I shall let Monsieur Grillade 
know." And the Doctor's chin rose and fell like the 
waves of the sea. 

"What is the name of the physician at Bristol 
who is so celebrated for consumptive complaints f ' 
asked Lady Juliana of Adelaide. " I shall send for 
him j he is the only person I hâve any reliance upon. 
I know he always recommends confinement for con- 
sumptioa" 

Tears dropped from Mary's eyea Ladj Juliana 
regarded her with surprise and severity. 

'*How very tiresome I I really can't stand thèse 
perpétuai scènes. Adélaïde, my love, puU the bell for 
my eavrde4uce, Dr. Bedgill, place the screen thera 
This room is insufierably hot My dogs will literally 
be roasted alive ;" and her Ladyship fretted about in 
ail the perturbation of ill-humour. 

^Ton my honour I I don't think the room hot^** 
said the Doctor, who, from a certain want of tact and 
opacity of intellect, never comprehended the feelings 
of others. "I déclare I hâve felt it much hotter 
when your Ladyship has complaîned of the cold ; but 
there's no accounting for people's feelings. If you 
would move your seat a leettU this way, I think you 
would be cooler; and as to your daughter ** 

''I hâve repeatedly desirèd, Dr. Eedgill, that you 
will not use thèse famîliar appellations when you 
address me or any of my family," inteirupted Lady 
Juliana with haughty indignation. 

**! beg pardon," said the Doctor, nowise discom- 



KABRU6E. 23 

posed at thîs rebuff. " Well, with regard to Miss — 
Miss — ^this young lady, I assure your Ladyship, you 
need be under no appréhensions on lier account. 
She's a leetUe nervous, that's ail — take her about by 
ail means — ail young ladies love to go about and see 
aights. Show her the pump-room, and the ball-room, 
and the shops, and the rope-dancers, and the wild 
beasts, and there's no f ear of her. I never recommend 
confinement to man, woman, or child. It destroys 
the appetite — and our appetite is the best part of u& 
What would we be without appetitesî Misérable 
beings! worse than the beasts of the field!" And 
away shuffled the Doctor to admonish Monsieur Gril- 
lade on the iniquity of neglecting this the noblest 
attribute of ii^ao. 

^'Itappears to me excessively extraordînary/' said 
Lady Juliaoa^ addressing Mary, "that Mrs. Douglas 
should hâve alarmed me so much about your health, 
when it seems there's nothing the matter with yoa 
8he oertainly showed very little regard for my f eelinga 
I can't nnderstand it ; and I mnst say, if you are not 
• îll, I hâve been most excessively ill-used by your 
Scotch frienda" And, with an air of great indignation, 
her Ladyship swept out of the room, regardless of 
the State into which she had thrown her daughter. 

Poor Mary's f eelings were now at their climax, and 
flhe gave way to ail the repressed agony that swelled 
her heart Lady Emily, who had been amusing her- 
self at the other end of the saloon, and had heard 
nothing of what had passed, flew towards her at sight 



24 MARBIÀGE. 

of her suffering, and eagerly demanded of Adelaido 
the oausa 

"I really don't know," answered Adélaïde, lifting 
her beautif ul eyes f rom her book with the greatest corn* 
posure ; " Lady Juliana is always cross of a moming." 

'^Oh no!" exclaîmed Mary, trying to regain her 
composnre, "the fault is mine. I — I hâve offended 
my mother, I know not how. Tell me, oh tell me, 
how I can obtain her forgiveness !" 

''Obtain her forgiveness 1" repeated Lady Emily 
indignantly, "forwhatî" 

" Âlas ! I know not ; but in some way I hâve dis- 
pleased my mother; her looks — her words — her 
manner — ail tell me how dissatisfied she is with me ; 

while to my sister, and even to her vçry dogs " 

Hère Mary's agitation choked her utterance. 

" If you expect to be treated like a dog, you will 
certaînly be disappointed," saîd Lady Emily. **I 
wonder Mrs. Douglas did not wam you of what you 
had to expect She must hâve known something pt 
Lady Juliana's ways ; and it would hâve been as well 
had you been better prepared to encounter them." 

Mary looked hurt, and making an effoit to conquer 
her émotion, she said, " Mrs. Douglas never spoke of 
my mother with disrespect; but she did wam ma 
agaînst expecting too much from her affection. Sho 
said I had been too long estranged from her to hâve 
retained my place in her heart ; but still " 

" You could not f oresee the réception you hâve met 
with 1 Nor I neither. Did you, Adélaïde î" 



MAKRIAGE. 25 

'*Lady JuKana is sometimes so odd," answered her 
danghter in her sweetest tone, "that I reallj am 
seldom Burprised at anjrthîng she does; but ail this 
fra^cas appears to me perf ectly absurd, as nobody mînds 
anything she says.'' 

"Impossible!" exclaimed Mary; "my duty must 
ever be to révérence my mother. My study should 
be to please her, if I only knew how ; and oh ! would 
she but suffer me to love her !" 

Âdelaide regarded her sister for a moment with a 
look of surprise ; then rose and left the room^ hum- 
ming an Italian air. 

Lady Emily remained with her cousin, but she 
was a bad comforter. Her indignation against the 
oppressor was always much stronger than her sym- 
pathy with the oppressed ; and she would hâve been 
more in her élément scolding the mother than sooth- 
ing the daughter. 

But Mary had not been taught to trust to mortals 
weak as herself for support in the hour of triai She 
knew her aîd must come from a higher source ; and 
in solitude she sought for consolation. 

"This must be ail for my good," sighed she, " else 
ît would not ba I had drawn too bright a picturt 
of happiness ; already it is blotted out with my tears. 
I must set about replacing it with one of soberer 
coloura" 

Alas ! Mary knew not how many a f air picture of 
human felicity had shared the same fate as hera 1 



OHAPTER m 

" They were in sooth a most enchanting train ; 

skilfal to unité 

With evil good, and strew with pleasnre pain." 

Caatle oflndoïenet. 

In writing to her maternai friend Mary did not ioUow 
ihe mode usually adopted bj joung ladies of the heroic 
cast^ yiz. that of giving a minute and cîrcumstantial 
détail of their own complète wretchedness, and abus- 
ing, in terms highly sentimental, every member of the 
family widi whom they are assodated. Mary knew 
that to breathe a hint of her own unhappiness wonld 
be to embîtter the peace of those she loved ; and she 
therefore strove to conceal from their observation the 
disappointment she had experîenced. Many a sigh 
was heaved, however, and many a tear was wiped 
away ère a letter could be composed that would carry 
pleasure to the dear group at Glenf em. She could 
say nothing of her mother's tendemess or her sister^s 
affection, but she dwelt upon the élégance of the one 
and the beauty of the other. She could not boast of 
the warmth of her uncle's réception, but she praised 
his good-humour, and enlarged upon Lady Emily's 
Idndness and attention. Even Dr. Bedgill's admira- 



HABBIÀ6E. 27 

tion of Scotch breakfasts was given as a horme batiche 
for her good old aunts. 

'^I déclare," saîd Miss Grîzzy, as she ended her 
fifth perusal of the letter, "Mary must be a happy 
créature, everybody must allow ; indeed I never heard 
ît disputed that Lady Juliana is a most élégant being ; 
and I daresay she is greatly improved since we saw 
her, for you know that is a long time ago." 

''The mind may improve after a certain âge," 
replied Jacky, with one of her wisest looks, "but I 
doubt very much if the person doea" 

'' If the inside had been like the out^ there would 
hâve been no need for improvement," observed Nicky. 

"Fm sure you are both perfectly right," resumed 
the sapîent Gnzzy, " and I hâve not the least doubt 
but that our dear nièce is a great deal wiser than 
when we knew her ; nobody can deny but she is a 
great deal older ; and you know people always grow 
wiser as they grow older, of coursa" 

" They ought to do it," said Jacky, with emphasis. 

" But there's no fool like an old fool," quoth Nicky. 

''What a delightful créature our charming nièce 
Adélaïde must be, from Mary's account," said Grizzy ; 
*' only I can't conçoive how her eyes come to be black. 
l'm sure there's not a black eye amongst us. The 
Kilnacroish family are black, to be sure ; and Kilna- 
croish's great-grandmother was first cousin, once re- 
moved, to our grandfather's aunt, by our mother's 
side. It's wonderful the length that resemblances 
run in some old families ; and I really can't account 



28 KÂfiBIAGEL 

for onr nièce Adelaide's black eyes natanllj any 
other way than just through the Eilnacroish family; 
for Fm qnite convinced it's from us ahe takes them, — 
children always take their eyes from their father's 
side ; everybody knows that Beck/s, and Bella's, and 
Baby's are ail as lîke their poor father's as they can 
stara" 

"There's no accountîng for the yarieties of tha 
homan spedes," said Jacky. 

^'Ând like's an ill mark," observed Nioky. 

'* And only think of her being so mnch taller llian 
Mary, and twins 1 I déclare it's wonderful — ^I should 
bave thought^ indeed I never doabted, that they 
would .hâve been exactly the same size. And snah 
a beautifnl colour too, when we used to think Mary 
rather pale ; it's very unaccountable 1" 

'^ You forget," said Jacky, who had not forgot the 
insuit offered to her nursing System eighteen yeais 
before; "you foiget that I always predicted what 
would happen." 

'^I never knew any good corne of changes," said 
Nicky. 

" l'm sure that's very true," rejoined Grizzy ; " and 
we hâve great reason to thank our stars that Mary is 
not a perf ect dwarf ; which I really thought she would 
hâve been for long, till she took a shootmg,— summer 
was a year." 

''But she'll shoot no more,** said Jacky, wîth a 
shàke of the head that might hâve vied with Jove's 
impérial nod ; '' England's not the place for shooting.'' 



MARRIAGE. 2& 

*'The Englîshwomen are ail poor âroichs," said 
Nickj, wlio had seen three in the course of her lif& 

"It's a great matter to U8 ail, however, and to 
herself too, poor thing, that Mary should be so 
happy," resumed Grizzy. "Fm sure I don't know 
what she would bave done if Lord Courtiland bad 
been an ill-tempered barsb man, wbîcb, you know, be 
migbt just as easily bave been ; and it wonld really 
bave been very bard upon poor Maiy — and Lady 
Emily sucb a sweet creatore tool Fm sure we 
must ail allow we bave tbe greatest reason to be 
tbankful" 

'*I don't know," said Jacky; "Mary was petted 
enongb before, I wisb sbe may bave a head to stand 
any mora" 

"Sbell be ten times nicer tban ever/' quotb 
Nicky. 

''Tbere is some reason, to be sure, tbat can't be- 
denîed, to be afraid of tbat; at tbe same time, Mary 
bas a great deal of sensé of ber own wben sbe cbooses ; 
and it's a great matter for ber, and indeed for ail of 
us, tbat sbe is under tbe eye of sucb a sensible wortby 
man as tbat Dr. BedgilL Of course we may be sure 
Lord Courtland will keep a most élégant table, and 
bave a great variety of sweet tbings, wbicb are cer- 
tainly very tempting for young people ; but I bave 
no doubt but Dr. Eedgill will look after Mary, and 
see tbat sbe doesn't eat too many of iliem." 

" Dr. Eedgill must be a very superîor man," pro* 
nounced Jacky, in ber most magisterial manner. 



30 MAKBIAGE. 

"If I could hear of a private opportunîty,** er- 
claimed Nicky, in ^ transport of generosity, " I would 
send him one of our hams, and a nice little pig^ of 
butter — ^the English are ail great people for butter." 

The proposai was hailed with rapture by both 
sîsters in a breath ; and it was finally settled that to 
those tender pledges of Nicky's, Grizzy should add 
a box of Lady Maclaughlan's latest invented pills, 
while Miss Jacky was to compose the epistle that was 
to accompany them. 

The younger set of aunts were astonished that 
Mary had said nothing about levers and offers of 
marrîage, as they had always oonsidered going to 
England as synonymous with going to bo married. 

To Mrs. Douglas's more disceming eye, Mary*s 
happiness did not appear in so dazzling a light as to 
the weaker optics of her aunts. 

"It is not like my Mary," thought she, "to rest so 
much on mère extemal adyantages ; surely her wann 
affectionate heart cannot be satisfied with the grtu^e of 
a mother and the heaviy of a sister. Thèse she might 
admire in a stranger ; but where we seek for happiness 
we better prize more homely attributes. Yet Mary 
is so open and confiding, I thînk she could not hâve 
concealed from me had she experienced a disappoint- 
ment" 

Mr& Douglas was not aware of the effect of her 
own practical lessons ; and that, while she was àlmost 
unconsciously practising the quiet virtues of patience, 

1 Jar. 



MAItRIAGB. 31 

and fortitade, and self-denîal, and unostentatioasly 
sacrificing her own wishes to promote the comfort of 
otherSy her ezample, like a kindlj dew, was shedding 
îts silent influence on the embryo Uossoms of her 
pupil's heart 



CHAPTEE IF. 

'*. . • So the devil prevails often ; opponii nuibem, hb eUpt a 
doiid between ; some little objection ; a étranger is corne ; or mj 
head aches ; or the charch is too cold ; or I hâve letters to write ; 
or I azn not disposed ; or it u not yet time ; or the time is past ; 
thèse, and snch as thèse, are the clonds the devil daps between 
heaven and ns; but thèse are such impotent objections, that 
they were as soon confated, as pretended, by ail men that an 
not fools, or professed enemies of religion. *'---Jbkemt Tayuol 

Ladt Juliana had in vain endeavoured to obtain a 
sick certificate for her daaghter, that would hâve 
autborised her consigning her to the oblivion of her 
own apartment The physicians whom she consolted 
ail agreed, for once, in recommending a totally difierent 
System to be pursued ; and her displeasure, in consé- 
quence, was violentlj excited against the médical tribe 
in gênerai, and Dr. Eedgîll in particular. For that 
worthy she had indeed always entertained a most 
thorough contempt and aversion; for he was poor, 
ugly, and vulgar, and thèse were the three most deadly 
sins in her calendar. The object of her detestation 
was, however, completely insensible to its efiecta The 
Doctor, like Acb'Ues, was vulnérable but in one part^ 
and over that she could exercise no controL She had 
nothing to do with the ménage — ^possessed no infltteaoe 



MABRIAGE. SS 

over Lord Courttand, nor authority over Moiisieur 
Giîllada She differed from himself as to tihe dress- 
ing of certain dishes ; and, in short, he summed up 
her character in one emphatic sentence, that in his 
idea conveyed severer censure tlian ail that Pope or 
Young ever wrote — "I don't think she has the taste 
of her mouth !" 

Thus thwarted in her scheme, Lady Juliana's dis- 
Uke to her daughter rather increased than diminished; 
and it was well for Mary that lessons of f orbearance 
had been early inf used into her mind ; for her spîrit 
was naturally high, and would hâve revolted from 
ihe tyranny and injustice with which she was treated 
had she not been taught the practical duties of Chris- 
tianity, and that "patience, with ail its appendages, 
is the sum total of aU our duty that is proper to the 
day of sorrow." 

Not that Mary sought, by a blind complîance with 
ail her mother's f oUies and caprices, to ingratiate her- 
self into her faveur— even the motive she would hâve 
deemed însuffîcient to hâve sanctifîed the deed ; and 
the only arts she employed to win a place in her 
paient's heart were ready obédience, unvarying sweet- 
ness, and uncomplaîning submission. 

Although Mary possessed none of the sour bigotry 
of a narrow mind, she was yet punctual in the dis- 
charge of her religions duties ; and the Sunday f ollow 
ing her arrivai, as they sat at breakf ast, she inquired 
of her cousin at what time the church service began. 

'^I reaUv am not certain — I beUeve it is late/ 

▼QIi. a D V. 



34 MARRIAGE. 

replied her cousîn carelessly. "But why do you 

" Becaose I wish to be there în proper tîma" 

"But we scarcely ever go — never, indeed, to the 
parîsh church — and we are rather distant from any 
other; so you must say your prayers at homa" 

^'I would certainly prefer going to church," said 
Mary. 

"Going to church!" exclaimed Dr. Redgill in 
amazement " I wonder what makes people so keen 
of going to church ! Fm sure there's little good to be 
got thera For my part^ I déclare I would just as 
soon think of going into my grava Take my word 
for it^ cburches and cburchyards are rather too nearly 
related." 

"In such a day as thîs/* said Mary, "so dry and 
sunny, I am sure there can be no danger." 

" Take your own way, Miss Mary," said the Doctor; 
" but I think it my duty to let you know my opinion 
of churches. I look upon them as extremely prejudi- 
cial to the health. They are invariably either too hot 
or too cold ; you are either stewed or starved in them; 
and, till some improvement takes place, I assure you 
my foot shall never enter one of them. In fact, they 
are perfect réceptacles of human infîrmities. I can 
tell one of your church-going ladies at a glance ; they 
bave ail rheumatisms in their shoulders, and colds in 
their heads, and swelled faces. Besides it*s a poor 
oountry church — there's nothing to be seen after you 
do go." 



à 



HÀSRIA6E. 35 

"I assure you Lady Juliana will be excessîvely 
annoyed if you go," said Lady Emily, as Mary rose to 
leave the room. 

"Surely my mother cannot be displeased at my 
attending church !" said Mary in astonishment 

" Yes, she can, and most certainly wilL She never 
goes herself now, since she had a quarrel with Dr. 
Barlow, the clergyman ; and she can't bear any of the 
fanùly to attend him.» 

" And you hâve my sanction for staying away, Miss 
Mary," added the Doctor. 

"Is he a man of bad characterl" asked Mary, as 
she stood irresolute whether to proceed. 

"Quite the reverse. He is a very good man; 
but he was scandalised at Lady Juliana's bringing 
her dogs to church one day, and wrote her what 
she conceived a most insolent letter about it But 
hère come your lady-mamma and the culprits in 
question." 

"Tour Ladyship is just come in time to settle a 
dispute hère," said the Doctor, anxîous to tum her 
attention from a hot mufiSn, which had just been 
brought in, and which he meditated appropriating to 
himself : " I hâve said ail I can — (Was you looking at 
the toast, Lady Emily ?) — I must now leave it to your 
Ladyship to convince this young lady of the foUy of 
going to church." 

The Doctor gained his point The moffin was 
npon his own plate, while Lady Juliana directed her 
angiy look towards her daughter. 



36 ICABBIAGI» 

'* Who talks of going to churcht" demanded Aè, 

Mary gently expressed her wiah to be permitted to 
attend divine servica 

'' I won't permit it I don't approve of girls going 
about by themselves. It is vastly improper, and I 
won't hear of it" 

^ It is the only place I shall ask to go to," said 
Mary timidly; "but I bave always been accustomed 
to attend church, and " 

" That is a sofficient reason for my choosing that you 
should not attend it hère. I won't sufier a Methodist 
in the house." 

«a assure you the Methodists are gaining ground 
very fast^" said the Doctor, with his mouth fuIL 
" Ton my soûl, I think it's very alarming I" 

"Fray, what is so alarming in the appréhension l** 
asked Lady Emily. 

"What is so alaxming! Ton my honour, Lady 
Emily, l'm astonished to hear you aak such a question 1" 
— muttoring to himself, "zealots — ^fanatics — enthusi- 
asts — bedlamites 1 l'm sure everybody knows what 
Methodists are !" 

" There bas been quito enough said upon the sub- 
ject^" said Lady Juliana 

" There are plenty of sermons in the house, Miss 
Mary," continued the Doctor, who, like many other 
people, thought he was always doing a meritorious 
action when he could dissuade anybody from going to 
churcL " I saw a volume somewhere not long ago ; 
and at any rato there's the Spectator, if you want 



MABBUGK 37 

Stinday's reading — some of the papers there are as 
good as any sermon you'll get from Dr. Barlow." 

Mary, with fear and hésitation, made anothei 
attempt to oyercome lier mother's préjudice, but in 
yaîn. 

"I désire I may hear no more about ît !" crîed she, 
raîsing her Yoic& " The clergyman is a most improper 
persoa I won't sufifer any of my f amily to attend his 
church; and therefore, once for aU, I won't hear 
another syllable on the subject" 

This was said in a tone and manner not to be dîs- 
puted, and Mary f elt her resolution give way before 
the displeasure of her mother. A contest of duties 
was new to her, and she could not ail at once résolve 
npon fulfilling one duty at the expense of another. 
'^Besides," thought she, ''my mother thinks she is 
in the right Perhaps, by degrees, I may bring her to 
think otherwise ; and it is surely safer to try to conci- 
liate than to détermine to oppose." 

But another Sabbath came, and Mary found she 
had made no progress in obtaîning the desired per- 
mission. She therefore began seriously to commune 
with her own heart as to the course she ought to 
porsue. 

The eommandment of "Honour thy father and 
thy mother" had been deeply imprinted on her mind, 
and f ew possessed higher notions of filial révérence ; 
but there was another precept which also came to her 
recollection. " Whosoever loveth father and mother 
more than me cannot be my disciple." "But I may 



38 MARKIAGE. 

honour and obey my parent without lovîng her more 
than my Saviour," argued she with herself, in hopes 
of lulling her conscience by this reflection. "But 
again," thought she, "the Scripture saith, *He that 
keepeth my commandments, he it is that loveth me." 
Then she felt the necessity of owning that if she 
obeyed the commands of her mother, when in opposi- 
tion to the will of her Grod, she gave one of the Scrip- 
ture proofs of either loving or f earing her parent upon 
earth more than her Father which is in heaven. But 
Mary, eager to reconcile impossibilities — viz. the will 
of an ungodly parent with the holy commands of her 
Maker — ^thought now of another argument to calm her 
conscienca " The Scripture," said she, " says nothing 
positive about attending public worship ; and, as Lady 
Emily says, I may say my prayers just as well at 
home." But the passages of Scripture were too deeply 
imprinted on her mind to admit of this subterfuge. 
"Forsake not the assembling of yourselves together." 
"Where two or three are gathered together in my 
name, there will I be in the midst of them," eta etc. 
But alas ! two or three never were gathered together 
at Beech Park, except upon parties of pleasure, games 
of hazard, or purposes of conviviality. 

The resuit of Mary's délibérations was a flrm dé- 
termination to do what she deemed her duty, however 
painfuL And she went in search of Lady Emily, 
hoping to prevail upon her to use her influence with 
Lady Juliana to grant the desired permission; or, 
fihould she fail in obtaining it, she trusted her résolu- 



MABBIAGE. S9 

tion would contmae strong enough to enable her to 
brave her mother's dîspleasure in this act of conscien- 
tîous disobedîence. She met her cousin, with her 
bonnet on, prepared to go out 

"Dear Lady Emily," said she, "let me entreat of 
you to use your influence with my mother to persuade 
her to allow me to go to churcL" 

''In the first place," answered her cousin, "you 
may know that I hâve no influence ; — ^in the second, 
that Lady Juliana is never to be persuaded into any 
thing ; — in the third, I really can't suppose you are 
serions in thinking it a matter of such vast moment 
whether or not you go to church." 

''Indeed I do," answered Mary eamestly. "I 
hâve been taught to consider it as such ; and " 

''Pshaw ! nonsense ! thèse are some of your stiff- 
necked Presbyterian notiona I shall really begin to 
suspect you are a Methodist ; and yet you are not at 
ail like one." 

"Pray, tell me," said Mary, with a smile, '"what 
are your ideas of a Methodist?" 

** Oh ! thank heaven, I know ïittle about them ! — 
almost as Ïittle as Dr. Eedgill, who, I yerily believe, 
could scarcely tell the diflérence betwixt a Catholic 
and a Methodist, except that the one dances and 
t'other prays. But I am rather inclined to believe it 
is a sort of a scowling, black-browed, hard-favoured 
créature, with its greasy hair combed straight upon 
its flat forehead, and that twirls its thumbs, and tums 
ap its eyes» and speaks through its nose; and, in 



40 HABBUGIB. 

short, îs everyfihing that you are not^ ezc^t in tliis 
matter— of going to church. So, to avert ail thèse 
evil signs from falling upon you, I shaU make a point 
of your keeping company with me for the rest of the 
day.» 

Again Mary became serions, as she renewed her 
entreaties to her cousin to intercède with Lady 
Juliana that she might be allowed to attend cmy 
churcL 

" Not for kîngdoms !" exclaîmed she. " Her Lady- 
ship is in one of her most détestable humours to-day ; 
not that I ahould mind that, if it was anything of real 
conséquence that I had to compass for you. A bail, 
for instance — I should certainly stand by you there j 
but I am really not^ so'fdhd of mischief as to enrage 
her for nothing!" 

" Theii I fear I must go to church without ît^*' said 
Mary in a melancholy tona 

" If you are to go at ail, it must certainly be wîth- 
out it And hère is the carnage — ^get your bonnet^ 
and corne along with ma You shall at least hâve ft 
sight of the churcL" 

Mary went to put on her pelisse ; and, descending 
to join her cousin in the drawing-room, she found her 
engaged in an argument with Dr. EedgilL How it 
had commenced did not appear; but the Doctor's 
Yoice was raised as if to bring it to a decided termina- 
tion. 

" The French, madam, in spite of your préjudices, 
are a very superior nation to us. Their skill and 



IffABBIAGS. 41 

knowledge are botii infinitely hîgher. Every man in 
France is a first-rate cook — ^in f act, tiiey are a nation 
of cooks ; and one of our late travellers assures us 
lihat they bave discovered three hundred methods of 
drei^ng eggs, for one thing." 

^'Thatis just two hundred and ninety-nine ways 
more than enough," said Lady Emily; "give me a 
plain boiled egg, and I désire no other variety of the 
produce of a ben till it takes tbe form of a chicken." 

Dr. Eedgill lowered bis eyebrows and drew up bis 
ehin, but disdained to waste more arguments upon so 
tasteless a being. '' To talk sensé to a wpman is like 
feeding cbickens apon turtle soup," tbougbt be to 
himseli 

As for Lady Juliana^ sh^ oizulted in tbe wîse and 
judidous manner in wbicb sbe bad exercised ber 
autboiity, and felt ber cpiisequence greatly jncreased 
by a puUio display of it — power being an attrîbute 
sbe was yeiy seldom invested witb now. Indeed^ to 
do ber Ladysbip justice, sbe was most feelingly alive 
to tbe dnly due to parents, tbou^ tbat such a opm- 
mandment existed seemed quite unknown to ber till 
sbe becaïQe a motber. But sbe made ample amends 
for former deficiencies now; as to bear ber ezpatiate 
on the subject, one would bave deemed it tbe only 
duty necessary to be practised, eitber by Christian or 
heathen, and tbat, like cbarity, it comprebended every 
virtue, and was a covering for every sin. But there 
are many more sensible people than ber Ladysbip wbo 
entertain the same smiLeL, and, by way ot vLty 



42 ICÂBBIAGS. 

reverse the time and place of their dutie& When 
they are children, they make maûy judicious refleo- 
tîons on the duties of parents; when they become 
parents, they then acquire a wonderful insîght înto 
the duties of children. In the same manner husbands 
and wives are completely alive to the duties incum- 
bent upon each other, and the most ignorant servant 
is fully instructed in the duty of a master. But we 
shall leave Lady Juliana to pass over the duties of 
parents, and ponder upon those of children, while we 
f ollow Lady Emily and Mary in their aîring. 

The road lay by the side of a river ; and though 
Mary's taste had been formed upon the wild romantic 
scenery of the Highlands, she yet looked with pleasure 
on the tamer beauties of an English landscapa And 
though accustomed to admire even "rocks where the 
snowflake reposes;" she had also taste, though of a 
less enthusiastic kind, for the "gay landscapes and 
gardons of roses,*' which, in thîs more génial clime, 
bloomed even under winter's sway. The carriage 
drove smoothly along, and the sound of the church 
bell f ell at lutervals on the ear, " in cadence sweet^ 
now dying ail away ;" and, at the holy sound, Mary's 
heart flew back to the peacef ul vale and primitive 
kirk of Lochmarlie, where ail her happy Sabbaths had 
been spent The view now opened upon the village 
church, beautifully situated on the slope of a green 
hilL Parties of straggling villagers in their holiday 
suits were descrîed in ail directions, some already 
assembled in the churchyard, others traversing the 



MAREIAGB. 43 

neat footpaths that led through the meadowa But 
to Mary's eyes the well-dressed English rustic, trudg- 
ing along the smooth path, was a far less picturesque 
object than the barefooted Highland girl, bounding 
over trackless heath-covered hills ; and the well-pre- 
served glossy blue coat seemed a poor substitute for 
the varied drapery of thfe graceful plaid. 

So much do early associations tincture ail our 
future ideas. 

They had now reached the church, and as Mary 
adhered to her resolution of àttending divine worship, 
Lady Emily declared her intention of accompanying 
her, that she might corne in for her share of Lady 
Juliana's displeasure ; but in spite of her levity, the 
révérend aspect, and meek, yet fervent piety of Dr. 
Barlow, impressed her with better f eelings ; and she 
joined in the service with outward décorum if not 
with inward devotioa The music consisted of an 
organ, simply but well played ; and to Mary, unaccus- 
tomed to any sacred sounds save those twanged 
through the nose of a Highland precevUor^ it seemed 
the music of the sphere& 

Far différent sounds than those of peace and praise 
awaited her retum. Lady Juliana, apprised of this 
open act of rébellion, was in ail the paroxysms inci- 
dent to a little mind on discovering the impotence of 
its power. She rejected ail attempts at reconciliation; 
raved about ingratitude and disobedience ; declared 
her détermination of sending Mary back to her vulgar 
Scotch relations one moment — the next protested she 



44 IfABnUGE. 

should never see those odious Methodists again ; tlien 
she was to take her to France, and shut her up in a 
convent, etc., tîll, after utteiing ail the incohérences 
usuàl with ladies in a passion, she at kst succeeded 
in raving herself into a fit of hystéries. 

Poor Mary was deeply aflfected at thîs (to her) 
tremendous display of passion. She who had always 
been used to the mild placidity of Mrs. Douglas» and 
who had seen her face sometimes douded with sorrow, 
but never deformed by anger — ^what a spectacle ! to 
behold a parent subject to the degrading influence of 
an ungovemable temper 1 Her very soûl sickened at 
the sight; and while she wept over her mother's 
weakness, she prayed that the Power which stayed 
the ocean's wave would mercifuUy vouchsafe to still 
the wilder tempests of human passion. 



OHAPTER V. 

*' Wbj, ail delights are vain ; but that most vala, 
Which, with pain purchased, doth inherit pain.*' 

Shakespeabb. 

In addition to her mother's implacable wrath and 
unceasing animadversion Mary f ound she was looked 
npon as a sort of alamûng character by the whole 
family. Lord Courtland seemed afraîd of being drawn 
into a religions controversy every time he addressed 
her. Dr. Eedgill retreated at her approach and eyed 
her askance, as much as to say, " Ton my honour, a 
young lady that can fly in her mother's face about 
snch a trifle as going to chnrch is not very saf e Com- 
pany." And Âdelaide shnnned her more than ever, 
as if afraîd of coming in contact with a professed 
Methodist Lady Emily, however, remained staunch 
to her; and though she had her own private misgiv- 
ings as to her cousin's creed, she yet stoutly defended 
her from the charge of Methodism, and maintained 
that^ in many respects, Mary was no better than her 
neighbours. 

" Well, Mary," cried she, as she entered her room 
one day with an air of exultation, ^' hère is an oppor- 
tunilgr for you to redeem your character. There," 



46 MASBIÂGE. 

throwing down a card, "is an invitation for yon to 
a fancy bail" 

Mar/s heart bounded at thé mention of a bàlL 
She had never been at one, and it was pîctnred in her 
imagination in ail the glowing colours with which 
youth and inexpérience deck untried pleasures. 

^^ Oh, how charming 1 " exclaîmed she, with sparkiing 
eyes, "how my aunts Becky and Bella will love to 
hear an accouut of a bail 1 Ând a fancy bail ! — ^what 
isthatr 

Lady Emily explained to her th§ nature of the 
entertainment, and Mary was in still greater raptures. 

"It will be a perfect scène of enchantment, I hâve 
no doubt," continued her cousin, " for Lady M. under- 
stands giving balls, which is what every one does not ; 
for there are dull balls as well as dull everythings else 
in the world But corne, I hâve left Lady Juliana 
and Adelaide in grand debate as to their dresses. 
We must also hold a cabinet council upon oura Shall 
I summon the inimitable Slash to préside ) " 

The mention of her mother recalled Mary's thoughts 
from the festive scène to which they had already 
flown. 

"But are you guUe sure," said she, "that I shall 
havQ my mother's consent to go î " 

" Quite the contrary," answered her cousin cooUy. 
" She won*t hear of your going. But what signifies 
thati You could go to church in spite of her, and 
surely you can't think her consent of much conse» 
quence to a ballf' 



IfÂBBIAGE. 47 

Poor Mary's coimtenance fell, as the bright vision 
of her imagination melted into air. 

"Without my mother's permission," said she, "I 
shall certainly not think of, or even wish — " with a 
sigh — " to go to the bail, and if she has ahready refosed 
it that is enough." 

Lady Emily regarded her with astonishment 
"Pray, is it only on Sundays you make a point of 
disobeyingyourmotherî" 

**It is only when I conceive a higher duty is 
required of me,*' answered Mary. 

" Why, I conf ess I used to think that to honour 
one's father and mother wa$ a duty, till you showed 
me the contrary. I hâve to thank you for ridding 
me of that vulgar préjudice. And now, after setting 
me such a noble example of independence, you seem 
to hâve got a new light on the subject yourself." 

"My obédience and disobedience both proceed 
from the same source," answered Mary. "My first 
duty, I hâve been taught, is to worship my Maker — 
my next to obey my mother. My own gratification 
never can corne in compétition with either." 

" Well, I really can't enter into a religions contro- 
versy with you ; but it seems to me the sin, if it is 
one, is precisely the same, whether you play^the 
naughty girl in going to one place or another. I can 
see no différence." 

"To me it appears very différent," said Mary; 
"and therefore I should be inexcusable were I to 
choose the evil, believing it to be sucL" 



48 KABRIAGEb 

"Say what you wîll," cried her cousm pettisUy, 
"you never will convince me there can be any harm 
in disobeyîng such a mother as yours — so unreason- 
àble — 60 " 

''The Bible makes no exceptions," intemipted 
Mary gently ; " it is not because of the reasonableness 
of our parents' commands that we are requîred to 
obey them, but because it is the will of God." 

" You certaînly are a Methodist — ^there's no deny- 
ing it I hâve f ought some hard battles for you, but 
I see I must give you up. The thing won't conceaL" 
This was saîd with such an air of vexation that Mary 
burst into a fit of laughter. 

''Ând yet you are the oddest compound," con- 
tinued her cousin, " so gay and comical, and so Uttle 
given to be shocked and scandalised at the wicked 
ways of others ; or to find f ault and lecture ; or, in 
short, to do any of the insufferable things that your 
good people aie 60 addicted ta I really don't know 
what to think of you." 

''Think of me as a créature with too many faults 
of her own to présume to meddle with those of otherSi" 
replied Mary, smiling at her cousin's perplexity.' 

" Well, if ail good people were like you, I do be- 
lieye I should become a saint myself. H you are 
ii|^t^ I must be wrong; but fifty years hence we 
shall settle that matter with spectacles on nose oyer 
our f anûly Bible& In the meantime the business of 
the ball-room is much more pressing, We really must 
décide upon something. Will you choose your own 



XABBIAGI. 49 

slyle, or shall I leave it to Madame Trieur to do us 
up exactly alike 1" 

''You hâve onlj to choose for yourself, my dear 
cousin," answered Mary. "You know I hâve no 
interest in it — at least not till I hâve received my 
motlier's pennission." 

'*I bave told you already there is no chance of 
obtaîning it I had a hrauUlerie with her on the 
subject before I came to you." 

'* Then I entreat you will not say anotber word 
It is a thing of so little conséquence, that I am quite 
vexed to think that my mother should bave been 
disturbed about it Dear Lady Emily, if you loye 
me, promise that you will not say anotber i^llable on 
the subject" 

** Ând this is ail the thanks I get for my trouble 
and yezation," exclaimed Lady Emily, angiily ; ^* but 
the truth is, I believe you think it would be a sin to 
go to a bail ; and as for dancing— oh, shocking ! that 

would be absolute . I really can't say the bad 

Word you good people are so fond of using." 

**I understand your meaning," answered Mary, 
laughing ; " but, indeed, I hâve no such appréhensions. 
On the contraiy, I am veiy fond of dancing ; so fond, 
that I bave often taken Aunt Nicky for my partner in 
a Strathspey rather than sit still — and, to conf ess my 
weakness, I should like very much to go to a balL" 

^ Then yov must and shall go to this one. It is 
really a pity that you should bave enraged Lady 
Juliana so much by that unfortunate church-going ; 

VOI4 IL E M. 



50 lOBRIÀGI. 

but for thaty I thînk she mîglit hâve been managed ; 
and even now, I should not despair, if you would, like 
a good girl, beg pardon for what is past, and promise 
never to do so any more." 

" Impossible 1" replied Mary, " You surely cannot 
be serions in supposing I would barter a positive duty 
for a trifling amusement ? " 

" Oh, hang duties ! they are odious thinga And as 
for your amiable, dutif ul, virtuous Goody Two-Shoes 
cbaracters, I detest them. They never would go 
down with me, even in the nursery, with ail the air 
tractions of a gold watch and coach and six. They 
were ever my abhorrence, as every species of canting 
and hypocrisy still is " 

Then struck with a sensé of her own violence and 
impetuosity, contrasted with her cousin's meek unre- 
provins; manner, Lady Emily threw her arms around 
L. bfgging p«:rdox, and Luring her ahe did not 
mean her. 

" If you had," said Mary, retuming her embrace, 
" you would only hâve told me what I am in some 
respects. DuU and childish, I know I am ; f or I am 
not the same créature I was at Lochmarlie " — and a 
tear trembled in her eye as she spoke — " and trouble- 
some, I am sure, you bave found me." 

"No, no I" eagerly interrupted Lady Emily;, "you 
are the reverse of ail that You are the picture of 
my Edward, and everything that is excellent and 
engaging; and I see by that smile you will go to 
the bail — ^there's a darling 1" 



MAHRIAGK 51 

Mary shook her head. 

" ru tell you what we can do," cried her persever- 
ing patroness ; " we can go as masks, and Lady Juliana 
shall know nothing about it. That will save the 
scandai of an open revolt or a tiresome dispute. Half 
the Company will be masked; so, if you keep your 
own secret, nobody will find it out Corne, what 
characters shall we choose V* 

" That of Janus, I think, would be the most suit- 
able for me," said Mary. Then, in a serious tone, 
she added, "I can neither disobey nor deceive my 
mother. Therefore, once for ail, my dear cousin, let 
me entreat of you to be silent on a subject on which 
my mind is made up. I am perfectly sensible of 
your kindness, but any f urther discussion will be very 
paînful to me." 

Lady Emily was now too indignant to stoop to re- 
monstrance. She quitted her cousin in great anger, 
and poor Mary felt as if she had lost her only friend. 

" Alas !" sighed she, "how difficult it is to do right, 
when even the virtues of others throw obstacles in 
OUT way! and how easy our duties would be could 
we kindly aid one another in the performance of 
thcm ! " 

But such is human nature. The real evils of lîfe, 
of which we so loudly complain, are few in number, 
compared to the daily, hourly pangs we inflict on one 
another. 

Lady Emily's resentment^ though violent^ was 
duirt-lived ; and, in the certainty that either tho 



52 KABRIA61S. 

mother would relent or the daaghter rebel, she 
ordered a dress for Mary ; but the night of the bail 
arrived, and both remained unshaken in their résolu- 
tion. With a f ew words Âdelaide might hâve obtained 
the desired permission for her sister ; but she chose 
to remain neuter, coldly declaring she never interf ered 
in quarrel& 

Mary beheld the splendid dresses and gay comité- 
nances of the party for the bail with feelings free from 
envy, though perhaps not wholly unmixed with regret 
She gazed with the purest admiration on the extrême 
beauty of her sister, heightened as it was by the fan- 
tastic élégance of her dress, and contrasted with her 
own pale visage and mouming habiliments. 

"Indeed," thought she, as she tomed from the 
mirror, with rather a moumful smile, ^'my Âunt 
Nicky was in the right : I certainly am a poor sMlpU 
thing." 

As she looked again at her sister she observed that 
her earrings were not so handsome as those she had 
received from Mrs. Macshake; and she instantly 
brought them, and requested Adélaïde would wear 
them for that night 

Adelaide took them with her usual coolness — ^re- 
marked how very magnificent they were — wished 
some old woman would take it into her head to make 
her such a présent; and, as she clasped them in her 
ears, regarded herself with increaséd complacency. 
The hour of departure arriyed ; Lord Courdand and 
Lady Juliana were at length ready, and Mary f oiind 



UABBUOIL 53 

herself left to a tite-à-tête with Dr. Bedgill; and, 
straoge as it mav seem, neliàer in a suUen nor melan- 
cholymooA But after a single sigh. as iàe carnage 
drove off, she sat down with a cheerful countenance 
to play backgammon with the Doctor. 

The foUowing day she heard of nothîng but the bail 
and its delights ; for both her mother and her cousin 
sought (though from différent motives) to heighten 
her regret at not having been there. But Mary 
listened to the détails of ail she had missed with 
peif ect fortitude, and only rejoiced to hear they had 
ail been 80 happy. 



CHAPTER VI 

" Day foUows night. The douds retum agaia 
After the falling of the latter rain ; 
But to the aged blind shall ne'er retom 
Gratefol vicissitude : She still must moum 
The 8un, and moon, and every starry light» 
Edipsed to her, and lost in everlasting night" 

Pbiob. 

Ahongst the numerous letters and parcels wîth whîch 
Mary had been entrusted by the whole county of 

, there was one she had received from the hands 

of Lady Maclaughlan, with a strict injunction to be 
the bearer of it herself; and, as even Lady Mac- 
laughlan^s wishes now wore an almost sacred charac- 
ter in Mary's estimation, she was very désirons of ful- 
fiUing this her parting charge. But, in the thraldom 
in which she was kept, she knew not how that was to 
be accomplished. She could not venture to wait 
upon the lady to whom it was addressed without her 
mother's permission; and she was aware that to ask 
was upon every occasion only to be refused. In this 
dilemma she had recourse to Lady Emily ; and, show- 
ing her the letter, craved her advice and assistance. 

"Mrs. Lennox, Rose Hall," said her cousiji, reading 
the superscription. "Oh ! I don^t think Lady Juliana 



MABBIA6E. 55 

will care a straw about your goîng there. She is merely 
an unf ortunate blind old lady, whom everybody thinks 
it a bore to visit — myself, Fm afraid, amongst the 
number. We ougbt ail to bave called upon ber âges 
ago, 80 I shall go with you now." 

Permission for Mary to accompany ber was easily 
obtained ; for Lady Juliana considered a visit to Mrs. 
Lennoz as an acfc of penance ratber tban of pleasure ; 
and Âdelaide protested tbe very mention of ber name 
gave ber tbe vapeurs. Tbere certainly was notbing 
tbat promised mucb gratification in wbat Mary bad 
beard ; and yet sbe already f elt interested in tbis un- 
fortunate blind lady wbom everybody tbougbt it a 
bore to visit, and sbe sougbt to gain some more infor- 
mation respecting ber. But Lady Emily, tbougb 
possessed of warm feelings and kindly affections, was 
little given to fréquent tbe bouse of mouming, or 
sympatbise witb tbe wounded spirit ; and she yawned 
as sbe declared sbe was very sorry for poor Mrs. 
Lennox, and would bave made a point of seeing ber 
oftener, could sbe bave done ber any good. 

"Butwbat can I possibly say to ber," continued 
she, "after losing ber busband, and baving I don't 
know bow many sons kiUed in battle, and ber only 
daugbter dying of a consumption, and berself going 
blind in conséquence of ber grief for ail tbese misfor- 
tunes — ^wbat can I possibly do for ber, or say to ber 1 
Were I in ber situation, l'm sure I sbould bâte tbe 
sigbt and sound of any buman being, and sbould give 
myself up entirely to despair." 



66 MABBIAQX. 

^'That would be but a pagan sacrifice,'' said 
Mary. 

'^What would you do in such desperate circum- 
staucest" demanded Lady Emilj. 

"I would hope," answered Mary, meekly. 

<^But in poor Mrs. Lennox's case that would be 
to hope though hope were lost; for what can she 
hope for nowl She bas stîll somethii^ to fear, bow- 
ever, as I belieye she bas still one son remaîning, wbo 
is in the brunt of every battle; of course she bas 
nothing to expect but accounts of bis deatL" 

'< But she may bope that beaven will preserye bim, 
and '' 

'< That you will marry bim. That would do excel- 
lently well, for be is as brave as a real Highlander, 
though be bas the misfortune to be only balf a ona 
His father, General Lennoz, was a true Scot to the 
very tip of bis tongue, and as proud and fiery as any 
chieftaîn need ba His death, certainly, was an im- 
provement in the family. But there is Eose Hall, 
with its pretty shrubberies and nice parterres, what 
do you say to becoming its nûstresst" 

**If I am to lay snares," answered Mary, laughing, 
'4t must be for nobler objects than hedgerow elma 
and hiUocks green." 

'* Oh, it must be for black crags and naked bills 1 
Your country really does vastly well to rave about ! 
Lofty mountains and deep glens, and blue lakes and 
roaring rivers, are mighty fine-sounding things ; but I 
suspect comfields and bamyaids are quite as oomf cri- 



IIEÀBRIÀGB. 57 

aîble neighbours ; so take my advice and marry Charles 
Lennox." 

Mary only answered by singing, " My heart's in tHe 
Highlands, my heart is not hère/' eta, as ihe carnage 
drew upi 

"This is the property of Mrs. Lennox," said Lady 
Emily. in answer to some remark of her companion's ; 
*'8he is the last of some ancient stock; and you 
see the family taste has been treated with ail due 
respect" 

Eose Hall was indeed perfectly English : it was a 
description of place of which there are none in Scot* 
land ; for it wore the appearance of antiquity, with- 
out the too usual accompaniments of dévastation or 
decay ; neither did any incongruities betray vicissitude 
of fortune or change of owner ; but the taste of the 
primitive possessor seemed to hâve been respected 
through âges by his descendants ; and the ponds re- 
maîned as round, and the hedges as square, and the 
grass walks as straîght, as the day they had been 
planned. The same old-fashioned respectability was 
also apparent in the interior of the mansioa The 
broad heavy oaken staîrcase shone in ail the lustre 
of bées* waz ; and the spacious fdtting-room into which 
they were ushered had its due allowance of Vandyke 
portraits, massive chairs, and china jars, standing 
much in the same positions they had been placed in 
a hundred years bef ore. 

To the délicate mind the unf ortunate are always 
objecte of respect As the ancients held sacred those 



58 MARKIAGE. 

places which had been blasted by lîghtnîng, so the 
feeling heart considéra the afficted as having been 
touched by the hand of God Himself. Such were the 
sensations with which Mary f oond herself in the pré- 
sence of the vénérable Mrs. Lennox — ^vénérable rather 
throagh affîction than âge; for sorrow, more than 
time, had dimmed the beauty of former days, though 
enough still remained to excite interest and engage 
affection in the moumful yet gentle expression of her 
countenance, and the speaking silence of her darkened 
eyea On hearing the names of her visitors, she arose, 
and, guided by a little girl, who had been sittmg at 
her feetj advanced to meet them, and welcomed them 
with a kindness and simpUcity of manner that r^ 
minded Mary of the home she had left and the 
maternai tenderness of her beloved aunt She de- 
livered her credentials, which Mrs. Lennox received 
with visible surprise ; but laid the letter aside without 
any comments. 

Lady Emily began some self-accusing apologies for 
the length of time that had intervened since her last 
visit, but Mrs Lennox gently interrupted her. 

"Do not blâme yourself, my dear Lady Emily,'* 
said she ; " for what is so natural at your âge. And 
do not suppose I am so unreasonable as to expect 
that the young and the gay should seek for pleasure 
in the company of an old blind woman. At your 
time of life I would not hâve courted distress any 
more than y ou." 

" At every time of life," said Lady Emily, "I am 



KABBIAQE. 59 

sure 70a mnst hâve been a very différent being from 
what I am, or ever shall be." 

"Ah! you little know what changes adversity 
makes in the character," said Mrs. Lennox moum- 
fuUy ; " and may you never know — unless it is for 
yonr good." 

"I doubt much if I shall ever be good on any 
terms," answered Lady Emily in a half melancholy 
tone ; " I don't think I hâve the éléments of goodness 
in my composition, but hère is my cousin, who is fit 
to stand proxy for ail the virtues." 

Mrs. Lennox involuntarily turned her mild but 
sightless eyes towards Mary, then heaved a sigh and 
shook her head, as she was reminded of her depriva- 
tion. Maiy was too much affected to speak ; but the 
hand that was extended to her she pressed with 
f enrour to her lips, while her eyes overflowed with 
tear& The language of sympathy is soon understood. 
Mrs. Lennox seemed to feel the tribute of pity and 
respect that flowed from Mary's warm heart^ and from 
that moment they felt towards each other that inde- 
finite attraction which, however it may be ridiculed, 
oertainly does sometimes influence our affections. 

" That is a picture of your son, Colonel Lennox, is 
it not)" asked Lady Emily, "I mean the one that 
hangs below the lady in the satin gown with the bird 
on her hand." 

Mrs. Lennox answered in the affirmative; then 
added, with a sigh, " And when I œvld look on that 
face, I f orgot ail I had lost ; but I was too fond, too 



60 ILLRBUGX. 

proud a mother. Look at it, my dear," taking Maiy's 
hand, and leading her to the well-known spot^ while 
her features brightened with an expression which 
showed maternai vanity was not yet eztinct in the 
moumer's heart " He was only eighteen," continued 
she, "when that was done; and many a hot son bas 
bumed on that fair brow ; and many a f earf ol sight 
bas met thèse sweet eyes since then ; and sadly that 
face may be changed ; but I shall never see it more !" 

"Indeed," said Lady Ëmily, affecting to be gay, 
while a tear stood in her eye, '* it is a very dangerous 
face to look on ; and I shoold be afraid to trost myself 
with it, were not my heart already pledged. As for 
my cousin there, there is no f ear of her falling a sacri- 
fice to hazel eyes and chestnut hair, her imagination 
is ail on the side of sandy locks and frosty gray eyes ; 
and I should doubt if Cupid himself would bave any 
chance with her, unless he appeared in tartan plaid 
and Highland bonnet" 

" Then my Charles would bave some/' said Mr& 
Lennox, with a faint smile ; " for he bas lately been 
promoted to the command of a Highland régiment" 

" Indeed !" said Lady Emily, " that is very gratify- 
ing, and you bave reason to be proud of Colonel 
Lennox; he bas distinguished himself upon every 
occasion." 

"Ah ! the days of my pride are now past," replied 
Mrs. Lennox, with a sigh ; " 'tis only the more honour, 
the greater danger, and I am weary of such bloody 
honours. See there !" pointing to another part of the 



IfARRIAGE. 61 

room, where hung a group of five lovelj children, 
.".three of thèse cherub heads were laid low in battle ; 
the f ourtb, my Louisa, died of a broken heart for the 
loss of her brothers. Oh ! what can human power or 
earthly honours do to cheer the mother who has wept 
o'er her children's graves ? But there is a Power," 
raising her darkened eyes to heaven, " that can sns- 
tain even a mother's heart; and hère," laying her 
hand upon an open Bible, " is the bahn He has gra- 
ciously Youchsaf ed to pour into the wounded spirit 
My comf ort is not that my boys died nobly, but that 
they died Christians." 

Lady Emily and Mary were both silent from dif- 
férent causes. The former was at a loss what to say 
— ^the latter f elt too much aSected to trust her voice 
with the words of sympathy that hovered on her lips. 

'*I ought to beg your pardon, my dears," said 
Mra Lennoz, after a pause, for talking in this serions 
manner to you who cannot be supposed to enter into 
sorrows to which you are stranger& But you must 
excuse me, though my heart does sometimes run over." 

"Oh, do not suppose," said Mary, making an effort 
to conquer her feelings, " that we are so heardess as 
to refuse to take a part in the afflictions of others ; 
surely none can be so selfish ; and might I be allowed 

to come often — very often " She stopped and 

blushed ; for she f elt that her feelings were canying 
her f arther than she was warranted to go. 

Mra Lennox kindly pressed her hand. "Ahl 
God hathy indeed, sent some into the world, ^ho89 



62 HABRUGÉ. 

province ît is to refresh the afflîcted, and lighten the 
eyos of the disconsolate. Such, I am sure, you would 
be to me ; for I feel my heart revive at the sound of 
your voice ; it reminds me of my heart*s darling, my 
Louisa ] and the remembrance of her, though sad, is 
still sweet. Come to me, then, when you will, and 
God's blessing, and the blessing oî the blind and 
desolate, will reward you." 

Lady Emily tumed away, and it was not till they 
had been some time in the carriage that Mary was 
able to express the interest this visit had excited, and 
her anxious désire to be permitted to renew it 

"It is really an extraordinary kind of delight, 
Mary, that you take in being made misérable," said 
her cousin, wiping her eyes; "for my part, it makes 
me quite wretched to witness suffering that I can't 
relieve ; and how can you or I possibly do poor Mrs. 
Lennox any good î We can't bring back her sons." 

" No ; but we can bestow our sympathy, and that^ 
I hâve been taught^ is always a consolation to the 
afflicted." 

"I don't quite understand the nature of that 
mysterious feeling called sympathy. When I go to 
visit Mrs. Lemxox, she always sets me a^rying, and I 
try to set her a-laughing. Is that what you call 
sympathy î" 

Mary smiled, and shook her head 

"Then I suppose it is sympathy to blow one's 
nose — and — ^and read tho Bible. Is that iti or what 
kitr 



MABBIAGE. 63 

Mary declared slie could not define it ; and Lady 
Emily insisted she could not comprehend it 

"You will some day or other," said Mary; "for 
none, I believe, hâve ever passed through life without 
feeling, or at least requiring its support; and it is 
well, perhaps, that we should know betimes how to 
receive as well as how to bestow it." 

" I don't see the necessity at alL I know I should 
hâte mortally to bo what you call sympathîsed with ; 
indeed, it appears to me the height of selfishness in 
anybody to like it. If I am wretched, it would be no 
comf ort to me to make everybody else wretched ; and 
were I in Mrs. Lennox's place, I would hâve more 
spirit than to speak about my misfortunes." 

'^But Mrs. Lennox does not appear to be what 
you call a spirited creatura She seems ail sweetness, 
and '' 

" Oh, sweet enough, certainly ! — But hers is a sort 
of Eolian harp, that lulls mô to sleep. I tire to death 
of people who hâve only two or three notes in their 
character. By-the-bye, Mary, you hâve a tolerable 
compass yourself, when you choose, though I don't 
think you hâve science enough for a hravit/ra ; there I 
certainly hâve the advantage of you, as I flatter my- 
self my mind is à full band in itself. My kettle- 
drums and trumpets I keep for Lady Juliana, and I 
am quite in the humour for giving her a flourish to- 
day. I really require something of an exhilarating 
nature after Mrs. Lennox's dead march." 

An unusual bustle seemed to pervade Beech Park 



64 MÀBRIAGE. 

aâ ihe carnage stopped, and augured well for its 
mistress's intention of being more thaa osuallj vivar 
cloua It was f ound to be occadoned bj the arrivai 
of her brother Lord Lmdore's servants and horses, 
with the interesting intelligence that his Lordship 
would immediately follow; and Lady Endlj, wild 
with delight) forgot everything in the prospect of 
embracing her brother, 

**How does it happen," said Mary, when her 
cousin's transports had a little subsided, " that yon, 
who are in such ecstasies at the idea of seeing yonr 
brother, hâve scarcely mentioned his name to met" 

" Why, to tell you the truth, I f ear I was beginning 
to forget there was such a person in the world. I 
hâve not seen him since I was ten years old. At 
that tîme he went to collège, and from thence to the 
Continent So ail I remember of him is that he was 
very handsome and very good-humoured ; and ail that 
I hâve heard of him is, that wherever he goes he is 
the ' glass of f ashion and the mould of form ' — not 
that he is much of a Hamlet, IVe a notion, in other 
respects. So pray put off that Ophelia phiz, and 
don't look as if you were of ladies most deject and 
wretched, when everybody else is gay and happy. 
Come, give your last sigh to the Lennoz, and yonr 
first smile to Lindore" 

'' That is sympathy," said Mary. 



OHAPTER Vn. 

*' Quelle furear, dit-il, quel aveugle caprice 
Quand le dîner est prêt" Boilxait. 

^I HOFBjoor Lordshîp bas no thoughts of waiting 
dinner for Lord lindorel" asked Dr. Eedgill, with 
a face of alann, as seven o'clock struck, and neither 
dinner nor Lord Lindore appeared 

**I hâve no thoughts upon the subject," answered 
Lord Conrtland, as he tnmed over some new cari- 
catures with as much nonchàlcmee as if it had been 
mid-day. 

'' That's enough, my Lord ; but I suspect Mr. Mar- 
shall, in his officiousness, takes the Uberty of thinking 
for you, and that we shall bave no dinner without 
orders," lisîng to pull the belL 

**We ought undoubtedly to wait for Frederick," 
said Lady Juliana ; " it is of no conséquence when we 
sit down to tabla" 

A violent yell from the sleeping Beauty on the rug 
•onnded like a summary judgment on her mistress. 

** What is the meaning of this 1" cried her Ladyship, 
flying to the offended fair one, in ail the transports 
of pity and indignation ; " how can you, Dr. RedgiU, 
présume to treat my dog in such a mannerf" 

YOI* IL T WL 



66 MAKRIAGE. 

"Me treat your LadysHp's dogl" exclaîmed the 
Doctor in well-feigned astonishment — "Ton my hon- 
our ! — Tm quite at a loss ! — ^l'm absolutely conf ounded ! " 

«Yes! I saw you plainly give her a kick, 
and " 

" Me kick Beauty ! — ^after that ! — Ton my soûl, I 
should just as soon hâve thought of kicking my own 
grandmother. I did give her a ledtle — a very ledUe 
shove, just with the point of my toe, as I was going 
to ptdl the bell ; but it couldn^t hâve hurt a fly. I 
assure you it would be one of the last actions of my 
life to treat Beauty ill — Beauty! — ^poor Beauty!" — 
aflfecting to pat and soothe, by way of covering his 
transgression. But neither Beauty nor her mistress 
were to be taken in by the Doctor*s cajoleries. The 
one felt^ and the other saw the indignity he had corn- 
mitted; and his caresses and protestations were ail 
in vain. The fact was, the Doctor's indignation was 
so raîsed by Lady Juliana's remark, made in aU the 
plénitude of a late luncheon, that, had it been her- 
self instead of her favourite, he could scarcely hâve 
refrained W iMs testimony of his détesta Jn aad 
contempt But much as he despised her, he felt the 
necessity of propitiating her at this moment, when 
dinner itself depended upon her décision ; for Lord 
Courtland was perfectly neutral, Lady Emily was not 
présent, and a servant waited to receive orders. 

"I really believe it's hunger that's vexing her 
•poor brute !" continued he, with an air of unfeigned 
sympathy; "she knows the dinner hour as well as 



HARBIAGS. 67 

any of us. Indeed, the instinct of dogs in that 
respect is wonderful. Providence has really — a — 
hem! — indeed it's no joke to tamper with dogs, when 
the/ve got the notion of dinner in their heads. A 
frîend of mine had a very fine animal — just such 
another as poor Beautj there — she had always been 
accustomed, like Beauty, to attend the family to 
dinner at a particular hour; but one day, by some 
accident, instead of sitting down at five, she was kept 
waiting till half-past six; the conséquence was, the 
disappointment, operating upon an empty stomach, 
brought on an attack of the hydrophobia, and the 
poor thing was obliged to be shot the following 
moming. I think your Lordship said — ^Dinner," in a 
loud Yoice to the servant ; and Lady Juliana, though 
still sullen, did not dissent 

For an hour the Doctor's soûl was in a paradise 
still more substantial than a Turk's ; for it was lapt 
in the richest of soups and ragoûts^ and, secure of their 
existence, it smiled at ladies of quality, and deified 
their lap-dogs. 

Dinner passed away, and supper succeeded, and 
breakfast; dinner and supper revolved, and still no 
Lord Lindore appeared. But this excited no alarm 
in the family. It was Lord Courtland's way, and it 
was Lady Juliana's way, and it was aU their ways, 
not to keep to their appointed time, and they there- 
fore experienced none of the vulgar consternation 
incident to common minds when the expected guest 
fails to appear. Lady Ëmily indeed wondered, and 



68 ICABBUQK 

was proYoked, and impatient; bat ahe was not 
alarmed ; and Mary amused herself with contrasting 
in her own mind the différence of her aunts' feelings 
in similar circum8tance& 

"Dear Annt Grizzy wonld certainly bave been in 
tears thèse two days, fancying the thousand deaths 
Lord lindore must bave died ; and Aunt Jacky wonld 
baye been inveighing from moming tîll night against 
the irregukrities of young men. Ând Âunt Nicky 
would bave been lamenting that the black cock had 
been roaated yesterday, or that there wonld be no fish 
for to-morrow." And the resuit of Mary's compari- 
son was, that her aunts' feelings, however troublesome^ 
were better than no feelings at alL '' They are, to 
be snre, something like brambles," thought she; 
"they fasten npon one in eyery possible way, but 
still they are better than the f aded ezotics of fashion- 
able lifa" 

At last^ on the thiid day, when dinner was nearly 
over, and Dr. Bedgill was abont to remark for the 
third time, " I think it's as well we didn't waît for 
Lord Lindore," the door opened, and, without wam- 
ing or bustle. Lord Lindore walked calmly into the 
roonL 

Lady Endly, uttering an exclamation of joy, threw 
herself into bis arma Lord Courtland was roused 
to something like animation, as be cordially shook 
hands with bis son ; Lady Juliana flew into raptures 
at the beauiy of his Italian greyhound ; Adelaide, at 
the first glance, decided that her cousin was woilhy 



HABRIAGE. 69 

of falling in love with her; Mary thoaght on the 
happiness of the {amily réunion; and Dr. Bedgîll 
offered up a silent thanksgiYing that this frojca^ had 
not happened ten minutes sooner, otherwise the wood- 
cocks would hâve been as cold as death. Chairs were 
placed by the officions attendants in every possible 
direction ; and the discarded fîrst course was threat- 
ening to displace the third But Lord lindore seemed 
quite, insensible to ail thèse attentions ; he stood sur- 
veying the company with a wynMkmjot that had 
nothing of rudeness in it, but seemed merely the 
resuit of high-bred easa His eye, for a moment, 
rested upon Adelaida He then slightly bowed and 
smiled, as in récognition of their juvénile acquamt- 
ance. 

''I really can't recommend either the turtie soup 
or «he venison to your Lordship to^lay," said Dr. £ed- 
gOI, who experienced certain uneaciy sensations at the 
idea of beholding them résume their stations, some- 
iihing resembling those which Macbeth testified at 
sîght of Banquo's ghost^ or Hamlet on contemplating 
Torick's skuU — " after travelling, there is nothing like 
a light dinner ; allow me to recommend this pretty 
UetUe cuisse de poulet enpapUloie; and hère are some 
fascinating "beignets d! abricots — quite foreiga" 

*'If there is any roast beef or boiled mutton to be 
had, pray let me hâve it," said Lord Lindore, waving 
off the zealous maître cFhotely as he kept pladng dish 
after dish bef ore him. 

^'Koast beef, or boiled mutton!" ejaculated the 



70 MARRIAGB. 

Doctor, wîth a sort of internai convulsion; '*he is 
certainly mai" 

"How did you contrive to arrive without being 
heard by me, Frederick?" asked Lady Emily; "my 
ears hâve been wide open thèse two days and three 
nights watching your approach î" 

" I walked from Newberry House," answered he, 
carelessly. " I met Lord Newberry two days ago, as 
I was coming hère, and he persuaded me to alter my 
course and accompany him home." 

" Vastly flattering to your friends hère," said Lady 
Emily in a tone of pique. 

" What ! you walked ail the way from Newberry," 
exclaimed the Earl, "and the ground covered with 
snow. How could you do so foolish a thingl" 

" Simply because, as the children say, I liked it," 
replied Lord Lindore, with a smile. 

" That's just of a pièce with his liking to eat boiled 
mutton," muttered the Doctor to Mary ; " and yet, to 
look at him, one would really not expect such gross 
stupidity." 

Lre certainly wa. nothing in Lord Lindore's 
appearance that denoted either coa^^eness of taste 
or imbecility of mind. On the contrary, he was an 
elegant-looking young man, rather slightly formed, 
and of the middle size, possessing that ease and grâce 
in ail his movements which a perfect proportion alono 
can bestow. There was nothing foreign or reclierché 
either in his dress or deportment ; both were plain, 
even to simplicity ; yet an almost imperceptible air of 



MAfiRIAGK 71 

hauteur was mingled with the good-humoured indiffér- 
ence of his manner. He spoke little, and seemed 
rather to endure than to be gratified by attentions ; 
his own were chiefly directed to his dog, as he was 
more intent on f eeding it than on answering the ques- 
tions that were put to him. There never was any- 
thing to be called conversation at the dinner-table at 
Beech Park; and the gênerai practice was in no danger 
of being departed from on the présent occasioa The 
Earl hated to converse — ^it was a bore ; and he now 
merely exchanged a few desultory sentences with his 
son, as he ate his olives and drank his claret. Lady 
Juliana, indeed, spoke even more than her usual 
quantity of nonsense, but nobody listened to it Lady 
Emily was somewhat perplexed in her notions about 
her brother. He was handsome and élégant, and 
appeared good-humoured and gentle ; yet something 
was wanting to fill up the measure of her expectations, 
and a latent feeling of disappointment lurked m her 
heart Adélaïde was indignant that he had not in- 
stantly paid her the most marked attention, and 
revenged herself by her silence. In short, Lord Lin- 
dore's arrivai seemed to hâve added little or nothing to 
the gênerai stock of pleasure ; and the effervescence of 
joy — the rapture of sensaiion, like some subtle essence, 
had escaped almost as soon as it was perceived 

"How stupid everybody always is at a dinner 
table !" exclaimed Lady Emily, rising abruptly with 
an air of chagrin. " I believe it is the fumes of the 
méat that dulls one's sensés, and reuders them so 



79 HARRUGE. 

détestable. I long to see you in the drawing-rooxn, 
Frederick. l've a notion you are more of a carpet 
knight than a knight of the round table ; so pray/* in 
a whiEfper as she passed, "leave papa to be snored 
asleep by Dr. Bedgîll, and do you foUow us — ^here'a 
métal more attractive," pointing to the sisters, as thegr 
quitted the room ; and she followed without waitii^ 
for her brother's reply. 



OHAPTEE Vm 

"lo dubito, Signor M. Hetro che il mio Cortogiano n<m nzà 
gtoto altro che &tica mia, e festidio degli amici." 

Baldassaebb Castiolioiql 

Lord Lindore was in no haste to avail hîmself of 
bis sister's invitation ; and when he did, it was évi- 
dent bis was a " mind not to be changed by place ;" 
for be entered more witb tbe air of one wbo was tîred 
of tbe Company be bad lef t^ tban expecting pleasure 
f rom tbe society be sought 

'^Do corne and entertain us, Lindore/' cried Lady 
Emily, as be entered, ^' for we are ail beartily sick of 
one anotber. A snow-storm and a lack of company 
are tbings bard to be borne ; it is only tbe expectancy 
of your arrivai tbat bas kept us alive tbese two days, 
and now pray don't let us die away of tbe reality." 

'* You bave certainly taken a most effectuai metbod 
of sealing my lips," said ber brotber witb a smile. 

"Howsoî" 

"By telling me tbat I am expected to be vastly 
entertaining, since every word I utter can only serve 
to dispel tbe illusion, and prove tbat I am gifted witb 
no such miraculous power." 

"I don't tbink it requires any miraculous power 



74 ICABBIAGE. 

either to entertain or be entertained. For my part^ 
I flatter myself I eau entertain auy man, woman, or 
child in the kingdom, when I choose; and as for 
beîng entertained, that is stîll an easier matter. I 
seldom meet with anybody who is not entertainin^ 
either from their folly, or their affectation, or their 
stupidity, or their vanity ; or, in short^ someihîng of 
the ridiculous, that renders them not merely support- 
able, but positively amusing.'' 

" How extremely happy you must be," said Lord 
Lindora 

"Happy ! no — ^I don't know that my feelîngs pre- • 
cisely amount to happiness neither ; for at the very 
time l'm most diverted l'm sometimes disgusted too, 
and of ten provoked. My spirit gets chaf ed, and " 

" You long to box the ears of ail your acquaint- 
ances," said her brother, laughing. " Well, no matter 
— ^there is nothing so enviable as a facility of being 
amused, and even the excitement of anger is perhaps 
préférable to the stagnation of indifferenca" 

" Oh, thank heaven ! I know nothing about in- 
différence ; I leave that to Adelaida" 

Lord Lindore turned his eyes with more animation 
than he had yet evinced towards his cousin, who sat 
reading, apparently paying no attention to what was 
going on. He regarded her for a considérable time with 
an expression of admiration ; but Âdelaide, though she 
was conscious of his gaze, calmly pursued her studiea 

" Come, you positively must do something to sig- 
nalise yoursell I assure you it is expected of you 



MABRIAGE. 75 

that you should be the soûl of the company. Here 
îs Adélaïde waltzes like an angel, when she can get a 
partner to her liking." 

"But I waltz like a mère mortal," saîd Lord Lin- 
doré, seating himself at a table, and tuming over the 
leaves of a book 

" And I am engaged to play billiards with my uncle," 
said Adelaide, rising with a blush of indignation. 

" Shall we hâve some music, then ? Can you bear 
to listen to our croakings after the warbling of your 
Italian nightingales ?" asked Lady Emily. 

"I should like very much to hear you sing," 
answered her brother, with an air of the most perf ect 
indifférence. 

" Corne then, Mary, do you be the one to *untwist 
the chains that tie the hîdden soûl of harmony.' Give 
us your Scotch Exile, prayî It is tolerably appro- 
priate to the occasion, though an English one would 
hâve been still more so ; but, as you say, there is 
nothing in this country to make a song about" 

Mary would rather hâve declined, but she saw a 
refusai would displease her cousin ; and she was not 
accustomed to consult her own inclination in such 
f rivolous matters. She theref ore seated herself at the 
harp> and sang the f ollowing verses :— 

THE EXILE. 

The weary wanderer may roam 

To seek for bliss in change of scène ; 
Yet still the loved idea of home, 

Aud of the days he there has seen» 



76 KABRIAG15. 

Pursue liim with a fond regret, 

Like raya froin suns that long haye tflti 

*Tia not the 8culptor*s magie art, 

'Tis not th* heroîc deeds of yore, 
That lill and gratify the heart. 

No ! 'tis affection's tender lore — 
The thonght of friends, and love*s first si^ 
When youtb, and hope, and health were ni^^ 

What thongh on classie gronnd we tread, 
"What though we breathe a génial air-^ 

Can thèse restore the bliss that's fled t 
Is not remembrance ever there ! 

Can any soil protect from grief, 

Or any air breathe soft relief? 

No ! the sick soûl, that wounded Hies 
From ail its early thoughts held dear, 

Will more some gleam of memory prize, 
That draws the long-lost treasure near ; 

And warmly presses to its breast 

The very thought that mars its rest. 

Some mossy stone, some ton'ent nide, 
Some moor unknown to worldly ken, 

Some weeping birches, fragrant wood, 
Or some wild roebuck's fem-clad glen ;— 

Yes ! thèse his aching heart delight, 

Thèse bring his country to his sight 

Ere the song was ended Lord Lindore had saun- 
tered away to the billiard-room, singing, " Oh ! Jiove 
Omnipotente !" and seemîngly quite unconscious that 
any attentions were due from him in retum. But 
there, even Adelaide*s charms failed to attract, in 
spite of the variety of graceful movements practised 
before him — the beauty of the extended arm, the 
majestic step, and the exclamations of the enchanting 



ICABSIAGK 77 

Toica Lord Lindore kept his station by the fire, in 
a mnsing attitude, from which he was onlj roused 
occasionally by the caresses of his dog. At snpper 
it was still worse. He placed himself by Mary, and 
when he spoke, it was only of Scotland. 

" Well — ^what do you think of Lindore ?" demanded 
Lady Emily of her aunt and cousins, as they wers 
about to separate for the night " Is he not divine ?" 

"Perfectly so !" replied Lady Juliana, with ail the 
self-importance of a f ooL " I assure you I think yery 
highly of him. He is a vastly charming, clever young 
man — ^perfectly beautiful, and excessiyely amiable; 
and his attention to his dog is quite delightful — ^it is 
so micommon to see men at ail kind to their dogs. 
I assure you I hâve known many who were absolutely 
cruel to them — ^beat them, and starved them, and dîd 
a thpusand shocking things ; and " 

"Pray, Adélaïde, what is your opinion of my 
brotherî" 

" Oh ! I — ^I — \B,ye no doubt he is eztremely ami- 
able," replied Adélaïde, with a gentle yawn. " As 
mamma says, bis attentions to his dog prove it" 

"And you, Mary, are your remarks to be equally 
judidous and polite ?" 

Mary, in ail the sincerity of her heart, said she 
thought him by much the handsomest and most 
elegant-looking man she had ever seen. And there 
she stopped. 

'" Yes ; I know ail that But — however, no matter 
— I only wish he may hâve sensé enough to fall in 



78 ICABBUGB. 

love with you, Mary. How happy I should be to 8ee 
you Lady Lindore! — En aitendani — ^you must take 
care of your heart ; for I hear he is tm pm volage — 
and, moreover, that he admires none but les dames 
Ma/rUes. As for Adélaïde, there îs no fear of her. 
She will never cast such a pearl away upon one who 
is merely, no doubt, extremely amiable," retorting 
Adelaide's ironical tone. 

'^ Then you may f eel equally secure npon my ao- 
count/' said Mary, " as I assure you I am in stiU less 
danger of losing mine, after the waming you bave 
givea" 

This off-band sketcb of ber brotber's cbaracter, 
wbicb Lady Emily bad tbougbtlessly given, produced 
tbe most opposite effects on tbe minds of tbe sisters. 
Witb Adélaïde it increased bis conséquence and en- 
banced bis valua It would be no vulgar conquest to 
fix and reform one who was notorious for bis incon- 
staucy and Ubertine principles ; and from that mo- 
ment she resolved to use ail the influence of ber 
cbarms to captivate and secure tbe heart of ber cousin. 
In Maiy's well-regulated mind other feebngs aros& 
Altbough she was not one of tbe outrageously virtuous, 
who storm and rail at tbe very mention of vice, and 
deem it contamination to bold any intercourse witb 
tbe vicions, she yet possessed proper ideas of tbe dis- 
tinction to be drawn ; and tbe bope of fînding a friend 
and brother in ber cousin now gave way to tbe feeling 
that in future she could only consider bim as a mère 
common acquaintance. 



OHAPTEB EL 

*' On sera ridicnle et je n'oserai rire !** 



BOILBATT. 



In honoTir of her brother's retum Lady Emilj resolved 
to celebrate it with a bail ; and always prompt in fol 
lowing up her plans, she fell to work immediately 
wiih her visiting list 

"Certainly," said she, as she scanned it over, 
''tiiere never was any famîly so afflicted in their 
acquaîntances as we ara At least one-half of the 
names hère belong to the most insufferable people on 
the face of the eartL The Olaremonts, and the Edge- 
fields, and the Beuveries, and the Sedleys, and a few 
more, are very well ; but can anything in human form 
be more insupportable than the rest ; for instance, that 
wretch Lady Placid î " 

^'Does her merit lie only in her name then?" 
asked Mary. 

" You shall jndge for yourself when I hâve given 
you a slight sketch of her character. Lady Placid, 
in the opinion of ail sensible persons in gênerai, and 
myself in particular, is a vain, weak, conceited, vulgar 
egotist Li her own eyes she is a clever, well-informed, 



80 ICASBIÂGS. 

élégant, amiable woman ; and though I bave spared 
no pains to let her know how détestable I think her, 
it is ail in vain ; she remains as firmly entrenched in 
her own good opinion as folly and conçoit can make 
her ; and I hâve the despair of seeing ail my boffetings 
fall blunted to the ground. She reminds me of some 
odious fairy or genii I hâve read of, who possessed 
such a power in their person that erery hostile 
weapon levelled against them was immediately tumed 
into some agreeable présent Stones became balls of 
silk — arrows, flowers — swords, feathers, etc. Even so 
it is with Lady Placid. The grossest insuit that conld 
be offered she would constrae into an élégant compli* 
ment ; the very crimes of others she seems to consider 
as so much incense offered up at the shrine of her 
own immaculate virtae. l'm certain she thinks she 
deserves to be canonised for having kept ont of 
Doctors' Gommons. Never is any affair of that sort 
alluded to that she does not caat such a triumphant 
look towards her husband, as much as to say, ^ Hère 
am I, the paragon of faithful wives and virtuous 
matronsi' Were I in his place, I should certainly 
throw a plate at her head And hère, you may take 
this passing remark — ^How much more odious people 
are who hâve radical f aults, than those who commit» 
I do not say positive crimes, but occasional weak- 
nesses. Even a noble nature may fall into a great 
error; but what is that to the ever-enduring pride, 
envy, malice, and conçoit of a little mindf Tes, I 
would at any time rather be the f allen than the one 



ICABBIAOIB. 81 

to exult oyer aie f ail of anoiher. Then, as a mother, 
she is, if possible, still more merîtorious a woman (this 
is the way she talks) : A woman bas noblj performed 
ber part to ber country, and for posterity, wben sbe 
bas brougbt a family of fine bealtby cbildren into 
tbe world. *I can't agrée witb you/ I reply; *I 
tbink many motbers bave brougbt cbildren into tbe 
worid wbo would bave been mucb better ont of it. 
 motber's meiit must dépend solely upon bow sbe 
brings up ber cbildren (bers are tbe most spoiled 
brats in Cbristendom). * Tbere I perf ectly agrée witb 
you, Lady Emily. As you observe, it is not every 
motber wbo does ber duty by ber cbildren. Indeed, 
I may say to you, it is not every one tbat will màke 
tbe sacrifices for tbeir family I bave done ; but tbank 
God ! I am ricbly repaii My cbUdren are every- 
tbing I could wisb tbem to be I' Everytbing of bers, 
as a matter of course, must be superior to every otber 
person's, and even wbat sbe is obliged to sbare in 
common witb otbers acquires some miraculous cbarm 
in operating upon ber. Tbus it is impossible for any 
one to imagine tbe deligbt sbe takes in batbing ; atid 
as for tbe sun, no mortal can conçoive tbe effect it bas 
upon ber. If sbe was to bave tbe plague sbe would 
assure you it was owing to some peculiar virtue in ber 
blood ; and if sbe was to be put in tbe pillory sbe 
would ascribe it entirely to ber great merit If ber 
coacbman were to make ber a déclaration of love 
sbe would impute it to the boundless infiuence of ber 
charms ; tbat every man wbo sees ber does not déclare 

VOL. IL a K. 



8d KARBIAGK 

his passion îs entirely owing to the well-known severity 
of her morals and the dîgnîty of her deportment If 
slie îs amongst the first înyited to my bail, that will 
be my eagemess to secure her : if the veiy last, it will 
be a mark of my friendship, and the easy footing we 
are upon. If not invited at ail, then it will be my 
jealousy. In short^ the united strength of worlds 
would not shake that woman's good opinion of hei^ 
self; and the intolérable part of it is there are so 
many f ools in this one that she actually passes with 
the multitude for being a charming sweet-tempered 
woman — always the same — always pleased and con- 
tented. Gontented ! just as like contentment as 
the light emitted by putrîdity resembles the divine 
halo I But too much of her. Let her hâve a card, 
however. 

"Then comes Mr& Wiseacre, that renowned law- 
giver, who lavishes her advice on ail who will receive 
it, without hope of f ee or reward, except that of being 
thought wiser than anybody else. But, like many 
more deserving characters, she meets with nothing 
but ingratitude in retum; and the wise sentences 
that are for ever hovering around hçr pursed-up 
mouth hâve only served to render her insupportable 
This is her mode of proceeding — * If I might présume 
to advise, Lady Emily;' or, *If my opinion could be 
supposed to hâve any weight;' or *If my expérience 
goes for anything;' or, *I'm an old woman now, but 
I think I know something of the world;' or, *If a 
friendly hint of mine would be of any service :' — ^then 



MARRIAGB. 83 

wlien very desperate, it is, * However averse I am to 
obtrude my advice, yet as I consider it my duty, I 
I must for once ;' or, * It certaîniy is no affair of mine, 
at the same time I must just observe,' etc. eta I don't 
say that she insists, however, upon yonr swallowing 
ail the advice she crams you with ; for, provided she 
has the luxury of giving it, it can make little différ- 
ence how it is taken ; because whatever befalls you, 
be it good or bad, it is equally a matter of exultation 
to her. Thus she has the satisfaction of saying, ^ If 
poor Mrs. Dabble had but followed my advice, and 
not hâve taken thèse pills of Dr. DooKttle's, she would 
hâve been alive to-day, dépend upon it;' or, 'If Sir 
Thomas Speckle had but taken advantage of a friendly 
hint I threw out some time ago, about the purchase 
of the Drawrent estate, he might hâve been a man 
worth ten thousand a year at this moment;' or, *If 
Lady Dull hadn't been so inf atuated as to neglect the 
caution I gave her about Bob Squander, her daughter 
might hâve been married to Nabob GulL' 

" But there is a strange contradiction about Mrs. 
Wiseacre, for though it appears that ail her friends' 
misfortunes proceed from neglecting her advice, it is 
no less apparent, by her account, that her own are 
ail occasioned by f ollowing the advice of others. She 
is for ever doing foolish things, and laying the blâme 
upon her neighbours. Thus, *Had it not been for 
my friend Mrs. Jobbs there, I never would hâve 
parted with my house for an old song as I did ;' or, 
*It was entirely owing to Miss Glue's obstinacy that I 



84 HABBIÀGIL 

was robbed of my diamond necklace;' or, *I hâve to 
thank my friend Colonel Crack for getting my car- 
rîage smasbed to pièces.' In short^ she bas the most 
comf ortable repository of stupid friends to hâve re- 
course to, of anybody I ever knew. NoiV^ what I 
hâve to wam you against, Mary, is the sm of ever 
listenîng to any of her advices. She will preach to 
you about the pinning of your gown and the curling 
of your hair till you would think it impossible not to 
do exactly what she wants you to do. She will in- 
quire with the greatest solicitude what shoemaker you 
employ, and will shàke her head most significantly 
when she hears it is any other than her own. But if 
ever I detect you paying the smallest attention to any 
of her recommendations, positively I shall hâve done 
with you." 

Mary laughingly promised to tum a deaf ear to ail 
Mrs. Wiseacre's wisdom ; and her cousin proceeded : 

"Then hère follows a swarm 'as thick as îdle 
motes in sunny ray/ and much of the same import- 
ance, methinks, in the scale of being. Married ladies 
only celebrated for their good dinners,'or their pretty 
équipages, or their fine jewels. How I should scom 
to be talked of as the appendage to any soups or 
pearls ! Then there are the daughters of thèse ladies 
— ^Misses, who are mère misses» and nothing more. 
Oh ! the insipidity of a mère Miss ! a soft simperîng 
thing with pink cheeks, and pretty hair, and fashion- 
able clothes ; — sam eyes for anything but lovers — sam 
ears for anything but flattery — scms taste for anything 



I 



ICABBIAGK 85 

bat balls — sans brains for an^thing at ail! Then 
there are ladies who are neither marrîed nor yoiing, 
and who strive with àll their might to talk most 
delightfullj, that tbe charms of tiheir conversation 
maj efface the marks of the crows' feet; but 'ail 
tihese I passen by, and nameless numbers moa' And 
now cornes the Hon. Mrs. Downe Wright, a person of 
considérable shrewdness and pénétration — yulgar, but 
unaffected. There is no politeness, no gentleness in 
her heart; but she possesses some warmth, much 
honesty, and great hospitality. She bas acquired 
the character of being — oh, odious thing! — a clever 
woman ! There are two descriptions of clever women, 
observe; the one is endowed with corporeal clever- 
ness — ^the other with mental ; and I don't know which 
of the two is the greater nuisance to society ; the one 
torments you with her management — ^the other with 
her Smart sayings; the one is for ever rattling her 
bunch of keys in your ears — ^the other electrifies you 
with the shock of her wit; and both talk so much 
and so loud, and are such egotists, that I rather think 
a clever woman is even a greater term of reproach 
than a good créature. But to retum to that clever 
woman Mrs. Downe Wright: she is a widow, left 
with the management of an only son — a commonplace, 
weak young man. No one, I believe, is more sensible 
of his mental deficiencies than bis mother ; but she 
knowB that a man of fortune is, in the eyes of the 
many, a man of conséquence ; and she theref ore wisely 
talks of it as his chief characteristic. To keep him in 



86 MÂSBUOE. 

good Company, and get him weU married, is aB her 
aîm ; and this, she thinks, will not be difficulté as he 
is very handsome — ^possesses an estate of ten thousand 
a year — and succeeds to somc Scotch Lord Somethîng's 
title — there's for you, Mary ! She once had views of 
Adélaïde, bat Adélaïde met the advances with so 
much scom that Mrs. Downe Wright declared she 
was thankful she had shown the cloven f oot in time, 
for that she never would hâve done for a wife to her 
William. Now you are the very thing to suit, for 
you hâve no cloven feet to show." 

" Or at least you are not so quick-sighted as Mrs. 
Downe Wright You hâve not spied them yet, it 
seems," said Mary, with a smile. 

"Oh, as to that, if you had them, I should defy 
you, or any one, to hide them from me. When I 
reâect upon the characters of most of my acquaint- 
ances, I sometimes think nature has formed my optics 
only to see disagreeables." 

" That must be a still more painful faculty of vision 
than even the second-sight," said Mary ; " but I should 
think it depended very much upon yourself to counter- 
act it." 

" Impossible ! my perceptions are so peculiarly alîve 
to ail that is obnoxious to them that I could as soon 
preach my eyes into blindness, or my ears into deaf- 
ness, as put down my feelings with chopping logic 
If people wUl be affected and ridiculous, why must I 
live in a state of warfare v/ith myself on account of 
the feelings they rouse within me 1 " 



\ 



lfAB£LA.aE. 87 

"If people wUl be irritable," said Mary, laughing, 
"why must others sacrifice theîr feelings to gratify 
them V 

" Because mine are natural feelings, and theirs are 
artîficial. Â veiy saint must sicken at sight of affecta- 
tion, youll allow. Vulgarity, even innate vulgarity, 
is bearable — stupidity itself is pardonable — ^but affec- 
tation is never to be endured or forgiven." 

" It admits of palliation, at least," answered Mary. 
"I daresay there are many people who would hâve 
been pleasing and natural in their manners had not 
tfieir parents and teachers interfered There are many, 
I believe, who hâve not courage to show themselves 
such as they are— some who are naturally affected — 
and many, very many, who hâve been taught affecta- 
tion as a.necessary branch of éducation." 

" Yes — as my govemesses would hâve taught me ; 
but, thank heaven î I got the better of them. Fasci- 
naimg was what they wanted to make me ; but when- 
ever the word was mentioned, I used to knit my brows, 
and frown upon them in such a sort The fro wn, I 
know, sticks by me \ but no matter — a frowning brow 
is better than a false heart, and I defy any one to say 
ihat I am fascinating." 

" There certainly must be some fascination about 
you, otherwise I should never hâve sat so long listen- 
îng to you," said Mary, as she rose from the table at 
which she had been assisting to dash off the at-homes. 

" But you must listen to me a little longer," cried 
her cousin, seizing her hand to detam her. ''I hâve 



88 MARRIAGB. 

not got haK through my détestables yet; but^ to 
humour you, I shall let tihem go for the présent 
And now, tbat you mayn't suppose I am utterly in- 
sensible to excellence, you must sufifer me to sbow 
you that I can and do appreciate worth when I can 
find it. I confess my talent lies fully as much in dis- 
covering the ridiculous as the amiable; and I am 
equally ready to acknowledge it is a fault^ and no 
mark of superîor wit or understanding ; since it is 
much easier to hit off the glaring caricature Unes of 
def ormity than the finer and more ezquisite touches 
of beauty, especially for one who reads as he runs — 
the sign-posts are sure to catch the eya But now for 
my favourite — no matter for her name — it would 
frighten you were you to hear it In the first place, 
she is, as some of your old divines say, hugdy réUgums; 
but then she keeps her piety in its proper place, and 
where it ought to be — ^in her very souL It is never a 
stumbling-block in other people's way, or interfering 
with other people's affairs. Her object is to be^ not 
to seem, religions ; and there is neither hypocrisy nor 
austerity necessary for that She is f orbearing, "with- 
out meanness — gentle, without insipidity — sincère, 
without rudeness. She practises ail the virtues her- 
self, and seems quite unconscious that others don't do 
the sama She is, if I may trust the expression of her 
eye, almost as much alive to the ridiculous as I am ; 
but she is only diverted where I am provokeA She 
never bestows false praise even upon her friends ; but 
a simple approval from her is of more value than the 



p 



HASSUOE. 89 

finest panegjric from another. She never findô occa- 
sion to censure or condemn the conduct of any one, 
howeyer flagrant it may be in the eyes of others; 
because she seems to think virtue is better expressed 
by her own actions than by her neighbour's vices. 
She cares not for admiration, but is anxious to do 
good and give pleasure. To sum up the whole, she 
could listen with patience to Lady Placid ; she could 
bear to be advised by Mrs. Wiseacre ; she could stand 
the scrutiny of Mrs. Downe Wright ; and, hardest task 
of ail " (throwing her arms around Mar/s neck), " she 
can bear with ail my ill-humour and impertinence." 



CHAPTER X, 

** Haye I tlien no fears for thee, my mothêrf 
Oan I forget thy cares, from lielpless yean— 
Thy tenderness for me f an eye still beamed 
With love f " TuoMBOir. 

The arrivai of Lord lândore brought an influx ai 
visitors to Beech Park ; and in the unceasing roond 
of amusement that went on Mary found herself corn- 
pletely overlooked. She therefore gladly took advan- 
tage of her insignificance to pay fréquent visita to 
Mrs. Lennox, and easily prevailed with Lady Juliana 
to allow her to spend a week there occasionally. In 
this way the acquaintance soon ripened into the 
warmest affection on both sides. The day seemed 
doubly dark to Mrs. Lennox that was not brightened 
by Mary's présence ; and Mary f elt ail the drooping 
énergies of her heart revive in the delight of adminis- 
tering to the happiness of another. 

Mrs. Lennox was one of those gentle, amiable 
beings, who engage our affections far more power- 
f ully than many possessed of higher attribute& Her 
understanding was not strong — neither had it been 
highly cultivated, according to the ideas of the présent 



MABRIAGE. 91 

tjme ; but she had a benevolence of heart and a guile- 
less sîmplicîty of thought that shamed the pride of 
wît and pomp of leaming. Bereft of ail extemal 
enjoyments, and destîtate of great mental resources,' 
it was retrospection and faturity that gîlded the dark 
evening of her days, and shed their light on the 
dreary realitîes of lifa She loved to recall the 
remembrance of her children — ^to tell of their infant 
beaiities, their growing virtues— and to retrace scènes 
of past felicity which memory loves to treasure in the 
heari 

"Oh! none but a mother can tell," she would 
exclaim, ''the bittemess of those tears which fall 
from a mother's eyes. AU other sorrows seem natural, 
but — God forgive me ! — surely it is not naturàl that 
the old should weep for the young. Oh! when I 
saw myseK surrounded by my children, little did I 
think that death was so soon to seal their eyes! 
Sorrow mine 1 and yet methinks I would rather hâve 
sufPèred ail than hâve stood in the world a lonely 
being. Yes^ my children revered His power and 
believed in His name, and, thanks to His mercy, I 
feel assured they are now angels in heaven ! Hère," 
taking some papert from a. writing-box, "my Louisa 
speaks to me even from the tomb! Thèse are the 
words she wrote but a few hours before her death. 
I^ad them to me; for it îs not every voice I can 
bear to hear uttering her last thoughts." Mary read 
as f ollows : — 



93 liAUBIAGE. 



FOR EVER GONB. 

For ever gone ! oh, chilling sound ! 

That tolls the knell of hope and joy I 
Potent with torturing pang to wound, 

But not in mercy to destroy. 

For ever gone î what words of grief— 
Replète witli wild inysterioos woe 1 

The Christian kneels to seek relief — 
A Saviour died It is not so. 

For a brief space we sojoum hère. 
And life*s roogh path we joumey o'er ; 

Thus was it with the Mend so dear, 
That is not lost, but sped before. 

For ever gone ! oh, madness wild 
Dwells in that drear and Atheist doom I 

But death of horror is despoiled, 
When Heaven shines forth beyond the tottâk 

For ever gone 1 oh, dreadful fate I 

Go visit nature — ^gather thence 
The symbols of man's happier state, 

Which speak to every mortal senaa. 

The leafiess spray, the withered flower, 
Alike with man owns death's embraM ; 

But bustling forth, in summer hour» 
Prépare anew to run life's race. 

And shaU it be, that man alone 

Dies, nevcr more to rise again f 
Of ail création, highest one, 

Created but to live in vain ? 

For ever gone ! oh, dire despair I — 
Look to the heavens, the earth, the 

Go, read a Saviour's promise there — 
Go, heir of Immortality I 



MABRIAGE. 93 

From sttcli communings as thèse the selfish would 
hâve tumed with indifférence ; but Mary's gênerons, 
heart was ever open to the overflowings of the wounded 
spirit She had never been accustomed to lavish the 
best feelings of her nature on frivolous pursuits or 
fictitious distresses, but had early been taught to con- 
secrate them to the best, the most ennobling purposes 
of hmnanity — even to the comforting of the weary 
soûl, the binding of the bruised heart. Yet Mary 
was no rigid moralist. She loved amusement as the 
armisemené of an imperfect existence, though her good 
sensé and still better principles taught her to reject 
it as the business of an immortal being. 

Seyeral weeks passed away, during which Mary 
had been an ahnost constant inmate at Rose Hall; 
but the day of Lady Emily*s fêée arrived, and with 
something of hope and expectation fluttering at her 
heart^ she anticipated her délmt in the ball-room. 
She repaired to the breakfast-table of her vénérable 
friend with even more than usual hilarity ; but, upon 
entering the apartment^ her gaiety fled ; for she was 
struck with the émotion visible on the countenance 
of Mrs. Lennox. Her meek but tearful eyes were 
raised to heaven, and her hands were fcrossed on her 
bosom, as if to subdue the agitation of her heart 
Her faithful attendant stood by her with an open 
letter in her hand. 

Mary flew towards her; and as her light step 
and soft accents met her ear, she extended her arms 
towards her. 



94 HAURIAOE. 

"Mary, my child, where are youV* exclûmed she, 
as she pressed her with convulsive eagemess to Ler 
heart " My son ! — my Charles ! — ^to-morrow I shall 
see him. See hîm ! oh, God help me ! I shall never 
see him more !" And she wept in ail the agony of 
contending émotions, suddenly and powerfully excited. 

"But you will hear him — you will hold him to 
your heart — you will be conscious that he is beside 
you," said Mary. 

" Yes, thank God ! I shall once more hear the voice 
of a living child ! Oh, how often do those voices ring 
in my heart, that are ail hushed in the grave 1 I am 
used to it now; but to think of his retuming to this 
wildemessl When last he left it he had father, 
brothers, sisters — and to find ail gone 1" 

"Indeed it will be a sad retum," said the old 
housekeeper, as she wiped her eyes; "for the Colonel 
doated on his sîster, and she on him, and his brothers 
too ! Dearly they ail loved one another. How in 
this very room hâve I seen them chase each other up 
and down in their pretty plays, with their papa's cap 
and sword, and say they would be soldiers ! " 

Mary motioned the good woman to be silent ; then 
tuming to Mrs Lennox, she sougbt to soothe her into 
composure, and tumed, as she always did, the bright 
side of the picture to view, by dwelling on the joy 
her son would expérience in seeing her. Mrs. Lennox 
ahook her head moumf ully. 

" Alas ! he cannot joy in seeing me, sach as I am. 
I hâve too long concealed from him my dreary doom; 



ICABRIAGE.. 95 

he knows not that thèse poor eyes are sealed in dark- 
ness ! Oh, he wîJl seek to read a mother's fondness 
there, and he will find ail cold and silent." 

"But he will also find you resigned — even con- 
tented," saîd Mary, whîle her tears dropped on the 
hand she held to her lips. 

"Yes; God knows I do not repîne at Hîs wilL 
It is not for myself thèse tears fall, but my son. 
How will he bear to behold the mother he so loved 
and honoured, now blind, beref t, and helpless ? " And 
the wounds of her heart seemed to bleed afresh at the 
excitement of even its happiest émotions— the retum 
of a long absent, much-loved soa 

Mary exerted ail the powers of her understanding, 
ail the tendemess of her heart, to dispel the mournful 
images that pressed on the mind of her friend ; but 
she found it was not so much her arguments as her 
présence that produced that effect ; and to leave her 
in her présent situation seemed impossible. In the 
agitation of her spirits she had whoUy f orgotten the 
occasion that called for Mary's absence, and she im- 
plored her to remain with her till the arrivai of her 
son with an eamestness that was irresistibla 

The thoughts of her cousin's displeasure, should 
she absent herself upon such an occasion, caused Mary 
to hesitate ; yet her f eelings would not allow her to 
name the cause. 

" How unf eeling it would sound to talk of balls at 
such a time," thought she ; " what a painful contrast 
must it présent ! Surely Lady Emily will not blâme 



96 ICABRIAOK. 

me, and no one will miss me '^ And, in the av- 

dour of her feelings, she promised to remain. Yet 
she sighed as she sent off her excuse, and thought of 
the pleasures she had renounced But the sacrifice 
made, the regrets were soon past; and she devoted 
herself entirely to soothing the agitated spirits of her 
vénérable friend. 

It is perhaps the simplest and most obvions truth 
skilf ully administered, that, in the season of affliction 
produces the most salutary efifects npon our mind. 
Mary was certainly no logîcîan, and ail that she conld 
say might hâve been saîd by another; but there is 
something in the voice and manner that carries an 
irrésistible influence along with it-^omething that 
tells us our sorrows are f elt and understood, not coldly 
seen and heard. Mary's well-directed exertions were 
repaid with success ; she read, talked, played, and sang, 
not in her gayest manner, but in that subdued strain 
which harmonised with the feelings, while it won upon 
the attention, and she had at length the satisfaction 
of seeing the object of her solicitude restored to her 
usual state of calm confiding acquiescenca 

** GkKl bless you, my dear Mary I" said she, as they 
were about to separate for the night ^ He only can 
repay you for the good you hâve done me this day !" 

^'Ah!" thought Mary, as she tenderly embraced 
her, '^such a blessing is worth a dozen ballsf" 

At that moment the sound of a carnage was heard, 
and an unusual bustle took place below ; but scarcdy 
had they time to notice it ère the door flew open, and 



HARBIAGE. 97 

Mrâ. Lennoz found herself locked in the amas of her 
soa 

For some minutes the tide of f eeling was too strong 
for utterance, and "My mother!" "My son!" were 
the only words that eîther could articulata At 
lengtih, raising his head, Colonel Lennox fixed his 
eyes on his mother's face "with a gaze of deep and 
f earful inquiry ; but no retuming glance spoke there. 
With that moumful vacuity, peculiar to the bKnd, 
which is a thousand times more touching than aU 
the varied expression of the living orb, she contînued 
to regard the vacant space which imagination had 
filled with the image she sought in vain to behold. 

At this confirmation of his worst fears a shade of 
the deepest anguish overspread the visage of her son. 
He raised his eyes, as in agony, to heaven — then 
threw himself on his mother's bosom ; and as Mary 
hurried from the apartment she heard the sob which 
burst from his manly heart, as he exclaimed, "My 
dear mother 1 do I indeed find you thus 1" 



VOL. IL 



CHAPTER XI 

" There is more complacency in the négligence of some men, 
than in what ia called the good breeding of others ;, and the 
little absences of the heart are offcen more interesting and engag- 
ing than the punctilions attention of a thousand professed 
sacrificers to the grâces. " — Mageenzib. 

PowERFUL émotions are the certain levellers of ordi- 
nary feelings. When Mary met Colonel Lennoz in 
the breakf ast-room the f ollowlng moming, he accosted 
her not with the ceremony of a stranger but with 
the frankness of a heart careless of common forma, 
and spoke of his mother with indications of sensibility 
which he vainly strove to repress. Mary knew that 
she had sought to conceal her real situation from him; 
but it seemed a vague suspicion of the truth had 
crossed his mind, and having with diffîculty obtaîned 
a short leave of absence he had hastened to hâve 
either his hopes or f ears realised. 

"And now that I know the worst," said he, "I 
know it only to déplore it Far &om alleviating, my 
présence seems rather to aggravate my poor mother's 
misf ortun& Oh ! it is heartrending to see the striv- 
ings of thèse longing eyes to look upon the face of 
tihose she loves l** 



MABRIÀGE. 99 

"Ah!** thought Mary, "were they to behold that 
face now, how changed would it appear !" as she con- 
trasted it with the portrait that hung immediately 
over the head of the original The one in ail the 
brightness of youth — the radiant eyes, the rounded 
cheek, the fair open brow, spoke only of hope, and 
health, and joy. Those eyes were now dimmed by 
sorrow; the cheek was wasted with toil; the brow 
was clouded by cares. Yet, " as it is the best part 
of beauty which a picture cannot express,"^ so there 
is something superior to the mère charms of f orm and 
colour ; and an air of high-toned f eeling, of mingled 
vivacity and sensibility, gave a grandeur to the form 
and an expression to the countenance which more 
than atoned for the want of youth's more brilliant 
attributes. 

Ât least, so thought Mary; but her çomparisons 
were interrupted by the entrance of Mrs. Lennox. 
Her son flew towards her, and taking her arm from 
that of her attendant^ led her to her seat, and sought 
to render her ihose litUe offices which her helplessness 
requirei 

" My dear Charles," said she, with a smile, as he 
tried to adjust her cushions, " your hands bave not 
been used to this work. Your arm is my best sup- 
port, but a gentler hand must smooth my pillow. 
Mary, my love, where are you ? Give me your hand 
Then placing it in that of her son — "Many a tear 
has this hand wiped from your mother's eyes l" 

^ Lord Bacon. 



100 ICABBIAGB. 

Maiy, blushing deeply, hastily withdrew it She 
f elt it as a sort of appeal to Colonel Lennox's f eelings ; 
and a sensé of wounded delicacy made her shrink from 
being thus recommended to his gratituda But 
Colonel Lennox seemed too much absorbed in his 
own painful reflectîons to attach such a meaning to 
his motiber's words : and though they excited him to 
regard Mary for a Moment wii pecLr interest. ye;, 
in a little while, he relapsed into the moumf ul rêverie 
from which he had been roused. 

Colonel Lennox was evidently not a show-off cha- 
racter. He seemed superior to the mère volgar aim 
of making himself agreeable — ^an aim which has mnch 
of tener its source in vanity than in benevolenca Tet 
he exerted himself to meet his mother's cheerfulness ; 
though as often as he looked at her, or raised his eyes 
to the youthful grotip that hung before them, his 
changing hue and quivering lip betrayed the angoish 
he strove to hide. 

Breakf ast ended, Mary rose to prépare for her de- 
parture, in spite of the solicitations of her friend that 
she should remain till the f ollowing day. 

'^ Surely, my dear Mary/' said she in an imploring 
accent, "you will not refuse to bestow one day of 
happiness upon me) — ^and it is mdh a happiness to 
see my Charles and you together. I little thought 
that ever I should hâve been so blessed. Ah ! I begin 
to think Grod has yet some good in store for my 
last days! Do not then leave me just when I am 
beginning to taste of joyl" — ^And she dong to her 



MABRIAGE. 101 

wîth that pathetic look which Mary had ever f ound 
irresîstibla 

But upon this occasion she steeled her heart against 
ail supplîcatîoiL It was the first time she had ever 
tumed f rom the entreaty of old âge or infirmity ; and 
those only who hâve lîved in the habituai practice of 
administering to the happiness of others can conçoive 
how much it costs the gênerons heart to resist even 
the weaknesses of those it loves. But Mary felt she 
had already sacrificed too much to affection, and she 
feared the reproaches and ridicule that awaited her 
return to Beech Park. She therefore gently, though 
steadily, adhered to her resolution, only softening it 
by a promise of retuming soon. 

'*What an angel goes there!" ezclaîmed Mrs. 
Lennox to her son, as Mary left the room to prépare 
for her departura "Âhl Charles, could I but hope 
to see her y ours !" 

Colonel Lennox smiled — "That must be when I 
am an angel myself thea A poor weather-beaten 
soldier like me must be satisfîed with something less." 

''But is she not a lovely créature)" asked his 
mother, with some solicitude. 

'' Angels, you know, are always fair," replied Colonel 
Lennox laughingly, trying to parry this attack upon 
his heart 

"Ah! Charles, that is not being seriou& But 
young people now are différent from what they were 
in my day. There is no such thing as falling in lova 
now, you are ail so cautions." 



102 HARBIAGE. 

And the good old lady's thoughts reverted to the 
time when the gay and gallant Captaîn Lennox had 
fallen desperately in love with her, as she danced a 
minuet in a blue satin sacque and Bologna hat at a 
county balL 

" You forget, my dear mother, what a knack I had 
in falling in love ten years ago. Since then, I confess 
I hâve got rather ont of the way of it ; but a little, a 
very little practice, I am sure, will make me as expert 
as ever; — and then I promise you shall hâve no cause 
to complain of my caution." 

Mrs. Lennox sighed and shook her head. She 
had long cherished the hope that if ever her son came 
home it would be to f ail in love with and marry her 
beloved Mary ; and she had dwelt upon this f ayourite 
scheme till it had taken entire possession of her mind. 
In the simplicity of her heart she also imagined that 
it would greatly help to accelerate the eyent were she 
to suggest the idea to her son, as she had no dou1)t 
but that the object of her affections must necessarily 
become the idol of his. So little did she know of 
human nature that the very means she used to accom- 
plish her purpose were the most effectuai she could 
hâve contrived to defeatit Such is man, that his 
pride revolts from ail attempts to influence his affec- 
tions. The weak and the undisceming, indeed, are 
often led to "choose love by another's eyes;" but the 
lofty and independent spirit loves to croate for itself 
those f eelings which lose half their charms when their 
source is not in the depths of their own heart 



IfÂBBIAGB. 103 

It was wîth no slight mortification that Mrs. 
Lennox saw Mary départ without haviiig made the 
desired impression on the heart of lier son ; or, what 
was still more to be feared, of his having secured 
himself a place in her faveur. But again and again 
she made Mary repeat her promise of retuming soon, 
and spending some days with her. "And then," 
thought she, " things will ail come right When they 
live together, and see each other constantly, they 
cannot possibly avoid loving each other, and aU will 
be as it should ba God grant I may live to see it !" 

And hope sof tened the pang of disappointment 



CHAPTEE XIL 

*' Qui TOUS s pu plonger dans cette humeur ohagiini^ 
A-t-on par quelque edit réfonné la cuisine t" 

BOILBAV. 

Maby's inexperienced mind expected to find, on her 
retum to Beech Park, some vestige of the pleasares 
of the preceding night — some shadows, at least^ of 
gaîety, to show what happiness she had saciificed— 
what delight her friends had enjoyed; but for the 
fiist time she beheld the hideous aspect of departed 
pleasure. Droopîng evergreens, dying lamps, dim 
transparencies, and f aded flowers, met her view as she 
crossed the hall ; whîle the public rooms were oovered 
with dust from the chalked floors, aad waz from the 
droppings of the candle& Everything, in short^ 
looked tawdry and f orlom. Nothing was in its place 
— ^nothing looked as it used to do — ^and she stood 
amazed at the disagreeable métamorphose aU things 
had undergona 

Hearing some one approach, she tnmed and beheld 
Dr. Eedgill enter. 

" So— it's only you, Miss Mary I" ezdaimed he in 
a tone of chagrin. '* I was in hopes it was some of 
the women-servanta Ton my soûl, it's diEfgraceful to 



liARKIAOK 105 

thiok that in iihis house there îs not a woman stining 
yet ! I hâve seïit five messages by my man to let 
Mrs. Brown know that I hâve been waitîng for my 
breakf ast thèse two hours ; but this conf ounded bail 
has tumed everything upside down ! Tou are come 
to a pretty scène," continaed he, looking round with 
a mixture of fury and contempt, — "a very pretty 
scène 1 Ton my honour, I blush to see myself stand- 
ing hère ! Just look at thèse rags !" kicking a festoon 
of artificial roses that had fallen to the ground. '' Can 
anything be more despicable? — and to think that 
rational créatures m possession of their sensés should 
take pleasure in the sight of such trumpery ! Ton 
my Boul, I — I — déclare it confounds me! I really 
used to think Lady Emily (for this is ail her doing) 
had some sensé — ^but such a display of folly as this !" 

^^Pshaw!" said Mary, "it is not faîr in us to 
stand hère analysing the dregs of gaiety after the 
essence is gone. I daresay this was a very brilliant 
scène last night" 

^^BriUiant scène, indeed i" repeated the ï)octor in 
a most wrathful accent: "I really am amazed — I — 
yes — ^brilliant enough — ^if you mean that there was a 
glare of light enough to blind the deviL I thought 
my eyes would hâve been put out the short time I 
stayed ; indeed, I don't think this one has recovered 
it yet^" advancing a fierce blood-shot eye almost close 
to Maiy^a "Don't you think it looks a leettle inflamed, 
HîssMaryl" 

Maiy gftve it as her opinion that it did. 



106 ICABRIAGB. 

'' Well, that^g ail IVe got by this business; bat I 
never was consolted about it I thought it my duty, 
howeyer, to give a leeUle hint to the Earl, when the 
thing was proposed. ^My Lord,' says I, 'your bouse 
is your own ; you bave a rîgbt to do what you please 
with it ; bum it ; pull it down ; make a purgatOry of 
it ; but^ for Ood's sake, don't give a bail in it i' The 
bail was given, and you see the conséquences. A 
bail ! and what's a bail, that a whole f amîly should be 
thrown into disorder for iji f " 

"I daresay, to those who are engaged in it^ it is a 
very delightful amusement at the time." 

*<Delightful fiddlestick! Ton my soûl, Fm sur- 
prised at you, Miss Mary ! I thought your staying 
away was a pretty strong proof of your good sensé ; 
but I — hem ! Ddlightful amusement, indeed 1 to see 
human créatures twirling one another about ail night 
like so many monkeys — making perfect mountebanks 
of themselves. Beally, I look upon dancing as a 
most degrading and a most immoral practîca Ton 
my soûl, I — I couldn't hâve the face to waltz, I know ; 
and it's ail on account of this delightful amusement — " 
with a convulsîve shake of his chin — " that things are 
in this state — myself kept waiting for my breakfast 
two hours and a half beyond my natural time : not 
that I mînd myself at ail — that's neither hère nor 
there — and if I was the only sufferer, Tm sure I 
should be the very last to complain — but I own it 
yexes — it distresses me. Ton my honour, I can't 
stand seeing a whole family going to destruction I'' 



MABRIAGE. 107 

The Doctor's agitation was so great that Mary 
really pitîed him. 

" It is rather hard that you cannot get any break- 
fast since you had no enjoyment in the balV said sha 
" I daresay, were I to apply to Mrs. Brown, she would 
trust me with her keys; and I shall be happy to 
officiate for her in making your tea." 

" Thank you, Miss Mary," replied the Doctor coldly. 
"I*m very much obliged to you. It is really a very 
polite offer on your part; but — hem! — you might 
hâve observed that I never take tea to breakfast I 
keep that for the evening; most people, I know, do the 
reverse, but they're in the wrong. Coffee is too 
nutritive for the evening. The French themselves 
are in an error there. That woman, that Mrs. Brown 
knows what I like ; in fact, she's the only woman I 
ever met with who could make coffee-^coffee that I 
thought drinkable. She knows that — ^and she knows 
that I like it to a moment — and yet " 

Hère the Doctor blew his nose, and Mary thought 
she perceived a tear twinkle in his eya Finding she 
was incapable of administering consolation, she was 
about to quit the room, when the Doctor, recovering 
himself , called af ter her. 

"If you happen to be going the way of Mrs. 
Brown's room, Miss Mary, 1 would take it very kind 
if you could just contrive to let her know what time 
of day it is ; and that I hâve not tasted a mouthf ul of 
anything since last night at twelve o'clock, when I 
took a ledOe morsel of supper in my own room." 



108 liABEIAGK 

Mary took advantage of the deep sigh that f ollowed 
to make her escape ; and as she crossed the vestibule 
she descrîed the Doctor's man, hurrying along with a 
coffee pot, whîch she had no doubt would pour con- 
solation into his master's sonL 

As Mary was aware of her mother's dislike to in- 
troduce her into company, she flattered herself she had 
for once done something to merit her approbation by 
having absented herself on this occasion. But Mary 
was a novice in the ways of temper, and had yet to 
leam that to study to please, and to succeed, are very 
différent things. Lady Juliana had been decidedly 
averse to her appearing at the bail, but she was equally 
disposed to take offence at her having stayed away ; 
besides, she had not been pleased herself, and her 
glass told her she looked jaded and ilL She was 
theref ore, as her maid ezpressed it, in a most particular 
bad temper ; and Mary had to endure reproaches, of 
which she could only make out that although she ought 
not to hâve been présent she was much to blâme in 
having been absent Lady Emil/s indignation was in 
a différent styla There was a heat and energy in her 
anger that never f ailed to overwhelm her victim at once. 
But it was more tolerable than the tedious, fretful ill- 
humour of the other; and after she had fairly ezhansted 
herself in invectives, and ridicule, and insolence, and 
drawn tears from her cousin's eyes by the bittemess of 
her language, she heartily embraced her, vowed she 
liked her botter than anybody in the world, and that 
she was a fool for minding anything she said to her. 



MÀBBIAGIE. 109 

^I assure yon," said she, "I was onlj tormenting 
yon a litUe, and you must own you deserve that ; but 
you can't suppose I meant half what I said ; that is 
a bêtise I can*t conceive you guilty of. You see I am 
much more charitable în my conclusions than you. 
You hâve no scruple în thinking me a wretch, though 
I am too good-natured to set you down for a fooL 
Corne, brighten up, and TU tell you ail about the 
balL How I hâte it, were it only for having made 
your nose red ! But really the thing in itself was 
detestabla Job himself miist bave gone mad at the 
provocations I met with. In the first place, I had set 
my heart upon introducing you with éclat, and instead 
of which you preferred psalm-singing with Mrs. 
Lennoz, or sentiment with her son — I don't know 
which. In the next place there was a dinner in 
Bathy that kept away some of the best men; then, 
after waiting an hour and a haU for Frederick to begin 

the bail with Lady Charlotte M , I went myself 

to his room, and f ound him lounging by the fire with 
a volume of Eousseau in his hand, not dressed, and 
quite surprised that I should think his présence at 
ail necessary ; and when he did make his erUréy con- 
ceive my f eelings at seeing him single out Lady Plàcid 
as his partner ! I certainly would rather bave seen 
h\m waltzing with a hyena I I don't believe he knew 
or cared whom he danced with — unless, perhaps, it 
had been Âdelaide, but she was engaged; and, by- 
the-bye, there certainly is some sort of a liaison there ; 
how it wiU end I don't know; it dépends upon 



110 IfAItKIÀOB. 

themselves, for l'm sure the course of theîr love may 
run smooth if they choose — I know nothing to inteiv 
rupt it: Perhaps, îndeed, it may become stagnate 
f rom that very cîrcumstance ; for you know, or per- 
haps you don't know, ' there is no spîrit under heaven 
that Works with such delusion.'" 

Mary would hâve felt rather uneasy at this mtelli- 
gence, had she believed it possible for her sister to be 
in love ; but she had ever appeared to her so insen- 
sible to every tender émotion and generous affection, 
that she could not suppose even love itself was capable 
of making any impression on her heart When, how- 
ever, she saw them together, she began to waver in 
her opinion. Adelaide, silent and disdainful to others, 
was now gay and enchanting to Lord Lindore, and 
looked as if she triumphed in the victory she had 
aheady won. It was not so easy to ascertain the 
nature of Lord Lindore's feelings towards his couain, 
and time only developed thesk 



CHAPTEB Xltt 

''Les douleurs muettes et stupîdes sont hors d*iu«ge; on 
pleure, on récite, on répète, on est si touchée de la mort de son 
mari, qu'on n'en oublie pas la moindre circonstance." 

La Bbtjtbbb. 

"Pray put on your Lennox face thîs moming, 
Mary," said Lady Emily one day to her cousin, "for 
I want you to go and pay a f uneral vîsit wîtii me to 
a distant relation, but unhappily a near neighbour of 
ourS) who bas lately lost her husband Lady Juliana 
and Adélaïde ought to go, but they won't, so you and 
I must celebrate, as we best can, the obsequies of tbe 
Honourable Mr. Sufton." 

Mary readily assented ; and when they were seated 
in the carriage, her cousin began — 

'^Since I am going to put you in the way of a 
trap, I think it but f air to wam you of it Ail traps 
are odious things, and I make it my business to ex- 
pose them where;er I find them. I own it chafes xny 
spirit to see even sensible people taken in by the 
clumsy machinery of such a woman as Lady Matilda 
Sufton. So hère she is in her true colours. Lady 
Matilda is descended from the ancient and illustrions 
f amily of Altamont To bave a f air character îa, in 



112 MABRIAGE. 

her eyes, much more important than to deseive it 
She bas prepared speeches for every occasion, and 
she expects they are ail to be believed — in short» she 
is a show woman ; the world is her théâtre, and from 
it she looks for the plaudits due to her yirtue ; for 
with her the reality and the semblance are synony- 
mous. She ha^ a grave and imposing air, which 
keeps the timid at a distance ; and she deUvers the 
most common truths as if they were the most pro- 
f ound aphorisms. To dégrade herself is her greatest 
f ear ; for, to use her own expression, there is notbing 
so degrading as associating with our inferiors — ^that 
is, our inferiors in rank and wealth — ^for with her àll 
other gradations are incompréhensible. With the 
lower orders of society she is totally unacquainted ; 
she knows they are meanly clothed and coarsely fed, 
consequently they are mean. She is proud, both 
from nature and principle; for she thinks it is the 
duty of every woman of f amily to be proud, and that 
humility is only a virtue in the canaUle. Proper 
pride she calls it, though I rather think it ought to 
be pride proper, as I imagine it is a distinction that 
was unknown before the introduction of heraldry. 
The only true knowledge, according to her creed, is 
the knowledge of the world, by which she means a 
knowledge of the most courtly étiquette, the manners 
and habits of the great, and the newest fashions in 
dress. Ignoramuses might suppose she entered deeply 
into things, and was thoroughly acquainted with 
human nature. No such thing; the only wisdom 



MABBIAGE. 113 

slie possesses, like the owl, îs thé look of wisdom, and 
that is the very part of it which I detest Passions 
or feelings she has none, and to love she is an utter 
stranger. When somewhat * in the sear and yellow 
leaf' she married Mr. Sufton, a silly old man, who 
had been dead to the world for many years. But 
after having had him buried alive in his own chamber 
till his existence was f orgot, she had him disinterred 
for the puipose of giving him a splendid burial in 
good eamest That done, her duty is now to moum, 
or appear to moum, for the approbation of the world. 
And now you shall judge for yourself, for hère is 
Sufton Hous& Now for the trappings and the weeds 
of woa" 

Aware of her coushx's satirical tum, Mary was not 
disposed to yield conviction to her représentation, but 
entered Lady Matîlda's drawing-room with a mind 
suffîciently unbiassed to allow her to form her own 
judgment ; but a very slight survey satisfîed her that 
the picture was not overcharged. Lady Matilda sat 
in an attitude of woe — a crape-f an and open prayer- 
book lay before her — ^her cambric handkerchief was 
in her hand — ^her mouming-rîng was upon her fingei 
— ^and the tear, not unbidden, stood in her eya On 
the same sofa,* and side by side, sat a talL awkward, 
Tapid-lookir.g personage. whom she kTroduced al 
her brother, the Duke of Altamont His Grâce was 
flanked by an obsequious-looking gentleman, who 
was alightly named as General Carver ; and at a re- 
spectfol distance was seated a sort of half-cast genile* 
TOLXL I JL 



114 MARBUGB. 

womau, (Bomeihing betwîxt the confidentîal friend and 
humble companion, who was încidentally mentioned 
as " my good Mrs. Finch." 

Her Ladyship pressed Lady Emily's hand — 
"I did not expect, my dearest young friend, after 
the blow I hâve experienced — I did not expect I 
should 80 soon hâve been enabled to see mf friends ; 
but I hâve made a great ezertion. Had I consulted 
my own f eelings, indeed !— but there is a duty we owe 
to the world — ^there is an example we are ail bound 
to show — but such a blow !" Hère she had recoone 
to her handkerchief. 

" Such a blow 1" echoed the Duka 
" Such a blow 1" re-echoed the Général 
"Such a blow I" reverberated Mrs. Finch. 
^^ The most doating husband ! I may say he lived 
but in my sight Such a man 1" 
" Such a man !" saîd the Duke. 
" Such a man !" exclaimed the General 
"Oh! such a man!" sobbed Mrs. FincH, as she 
complacently dropped a few teara At that moment, 
sacred to tender remembrance, the door opened, and 
Mrs. Downe Wright was announced. She entered the 
room as if she had corne to profane the ashes of the 
dead, and insuit the feelings of the living. A smile 
was upon her face ; and, in place of the silent press- 
ure, she shook her Ladyship heartily by the hand 
as she expressed her pleasure at seeing her look so 
welL 

«<WellI" replied the Lady, <<ihat is wondeiful, 



M ABRI AGE. 115 

after what I bave suffered ; but grief, it seems, will 
notkiUl" 

"I never tbought ît would," said Mrs. Downe 
Wrigbt ; " but I thougbt your baving been confined 
to tbe bouse so long migbt bave affected your looks. 
Howeyer, l'm bappy to see tbat is not tbe case, as I 
don't recollect ever to bave seen you so fat" 

Lady Matilda tried to look ber înto decency, but 
in vaiiL Sbe sigbed, and even groaned; but Mrs. 
Downe Wrigbt would not be dolorous, and was not 
to be taken in, eîtber by sîgb or groan, crape-f an or 
prayer-book. Tbere was nobody ber Ladysbîp stood 
80 mucb in awe of as Mrs. Downe Wrigbt Sbe bad 
an instinctive knowledge tbat sbe knew ber, and sbe 
f elt ber genius repressed by ber, as Julius Csesar^s was 
by Cassius. Tbey bad been very old acquaintances, 
but never were cordial friends, tbougb many wortby 
people are very apt to conf ound tbe two. Upon tbis 
occasion Mrs. Downe Wrigbt certainly did ; for, avail 
ing berself of tbis privilège, sbe took off ber cloak, and 
said, "THs so long since I bave seen you, my dear ; 
and since I see you so well, and able to enjoy tbe 
Society of your friends, I sball delay tbe rest of my 
visits, and spend tbe moming witb you." 

'* Tbat is truly kind of you, my dear Mrs. Downe 
Wrigbt^" retumed tbe moumer, witb a countenance in 
wbicb real woe was now plainly depicted; " but I can- 
not be so selfisb as to claim sucb a sacrifice from you." 

"Tbere is no sacrifice in tbe case, I assure you, 
my dear," retumed Mrs. Downe Wrigbt " Tbis is a 



116 MABBIAGIS. 

most comfortable room; and I could go nowbeie that 
I would meet a pleasanter little circle/' looking ronnd. 

Lady Matilda thought hérself undona Looking 
well — ^fat — comfortable room — ^pleasant circle — ^rung 
in her ears, and caused almost as great a whirl in her 
brain as noses, lips, handkerchiefs, did in Othello's. 
Mrs. Downe Wright, always disagreeable, was now 
perf ectly insupportable. She had disconcerted ail her 
plans — she was a bar to ail her studied speeches — 
even an obstacle to ail her sentimental looks ; yet to 
get rid of her was impossible. In f act^ Mrs. Downe 
Wright was far from being an amiable worn^m. She 
took a malicious pleasore in tormenting those she 
did not like ; and her skill in this art was so great 
that she even deprived the tormented of the privilège 
of complaint She had a great insight into character, 
and she might be said to read the very thoughts of 
her yictims. Making a desperate effort to be hersetf 
again, Lady Matilda tumed to her two young visitons 
with whom she had still some hopes of success. 

"I cannot express how much I feel indebted to 
the sympathy of my friends upon this trying occasion 
— an occasion, indeed, that called for sympathy." 

"A most melancholy occasion 1" said the Dukei 

''A most distressing occasion 1" ezclaimed tiie 
Général 

''Never was greater occasion 1*^ moaned Mr& 
Finch. 

Her Ladyship wiped her eyes, and resimied 

**1 feel that I act but a melancholy part^ in wgttê 



MABRIAGB. 117 

of every ezertîon. But my kind friend Mrs. Downe 
Wright's spirits will, I trust, support ma She knows 
what it îs to lose ^ 

Âgain her yoîce was buried in her handkerchief, 
and again she recovered and proceeded. 

"I ought to apologise for being thus overcome; 
but my friends, I hope, will make due allowance for 
my situation. It cannot be expected that I should 
at ail times find myself able for company." 

"Not at alli" said the Duke; and the two satel- 
lites uttered their responses. 

''You are able for a great deal, my dear!" said 
the provoking Mrs. Downe Wright ; " and I hâve no 
doubt but, with a very little exertion, you could be- 
have as if nothing had happened.'' 

''Your partiality makes you suppose me capable 
of a great deal more than I am equal to,'' answered 
her Ladyship, with a real hystérie sob. " It is not 
every one who is blessed with the spirits of Mrs. 
Downe Wright" 

"What woman can do, you dare; who dares do 
more, is none !" said the General, bowing with a de- 
lighted air at this brîlliant applicatioa 

Mra Downe Wright charitably allowed it to pass, 
as she thought it might be construed either as a com- 
pliment or a banter. Yisitors flocked in, and the in- 
sufferable Mrs. Downe Wright declared to ail that 
her Ladyship was astonishingly well; but without 
the appropriate whine, which gives proper pathos, 
aud generally accompanies this hackneyed speech 



118 lOBRIAGlB. I 

Mrs. Finch îndeed laboured hard to oonntenct (he 
effect of thîs injudicious cheerfolness by the most 
orthodox siglis, shakes of the head, and confidential 
whispers, in which "wonderful woman !" — " prodigious 
exertion!" — "perfectly overcomel" — "suflfar for tliis 
afterwards," — ^were audibly heard by ail présent ; but 
even then Mrs. Downe Wright's drawn-up lip and 
curled nose spoke daggers. At length the tormentor 
recollected an engagement she had made elsewhere, 
and took leave, promising to retum, if possible, the 
following day. Her friend, in her own mind, took 
her measures accordingly. She resolved to order her 
own carriage to be in waiting, and if Mrs. Downe 
Wright put her threat in exécution she would take 
an airingi True, she had not intended to hâve been 
able for such an exertion for at least a week longer ; 
but, with the blinds down, she thou^t it might hâve 
an interesting effect 

The enemy fairly gone, Lady Matîlda seemed to 
feel like a person suddenly relieved from the night- 
mare ; and she was beginning to give a f air spécimen 
of her scenic powers when Lady Ëmily, seeing the 
game was up with Mrs. Downe Wright^ abruptly rose 
to départ 

" This has been a trying scène for you, my sweet 
young friends !" said her Ladyship, taking a hand of 
eack 

*^It has indeed !" replied Lady Ëmily, in a tone so 
mgnificaat as made Mary start 

**I know it would — youth is alwayB'ao full of 



MAKRIAGE. 119 

sympathy. I own I hâve a préférence for the society 
of my young friands on that account My good Mrs. 
Finch, indeed, is an exception; but worthy Mrs. 
Downe Wright has been ahnost too much for me." 

" She is too much !" said the Duke. 

" She is a great deal too much !" said the General. 

" She is a vast deal too much !" said Mrs. Finck 

" I own I hâve been rather overcome by her !" with 
a deep-drawn sigh, which her visitors hastily availed 
themselves of to màke their retreat The Duke and 
the General handed Lady Emily and Mary to their 
carriage. 

" You find my poor sîster wonderfully composed," 
said the former. 

" Gharming woman, Lady Matilda !" ejaculated the 
latter; "her feelings do honour to her head and heart!" 

Mary sprang into the carriage as quick as possible 
to be saved the embarrassment of a reply ; and it was 
not tiU they were f airly out of sight that she ventured 
to raise her eyes to her cousin's face. There the 
expression of ill-humour and disgust were so strongly 
depicted that she could not longer repress her risible 
émotions, but gave way to a violent fît of laughter. 

"How!" exclaimed her companion, "is this the 
only effect * Matilda's moan ' has produced upon you ? 
I expected your taste for grief would hâve been highly 
gratified by this affecting représentation." 

"My appetite, you ought rather to say," replied 
Mary ; " taste implies some discrimination, which you 
seem to deny me." 



120 MARRIAGE. 

" Why, to tell you the truth, I do look upon you 
as a sort of intellectual ghoul ; you really do remind 
me of the lady in the Arabîan Nîghts, whose taste or 
appetite, which you will, led her to scom everything 
that did not savour of the churchyari" 

" The delicacy of your comparison îs highly flatter- 
ing," said Mary ; " but I must be duller than the fat 
weed were I to give my sympathy to such as Lady 
Matilda Sufton." 

" Well, l'm glad to hear you say so ; for I assure 
you I was in pain lest you should haye been taken 
in, notwithstanding my waming to say something 
larmoyante — or join the soft écho — ;or heave a sigh — 
or drop a tear — or do something, in short, that would 
hâve disgraced you with me for ever. At one time, I 
must do you the justice to own, I thought I saw you 
with difïiculty repress a smile, and then you blushed 
80, for fear you had betrayed yourself I The smile I 
suppose has gained you one conquest — the blush 
another. How happy you who can hit the various 
tastes so easily 1 Mrs. Downe Wright whispered me 
as she left the room, 'What a charming intelligent 
countenance your cousin has !' While my Lord Duke 
of Altamont observed, as he handed me along, * What 
a very sweet modest-looking girl Miss Douglas was !' 
So take your choice — Mrs. William Downe Wright^ 
or Duchess of Altamont !" 

"Duchess of Altamont, to be sure," said Mary: 
"and then such a man ! Oh ! such a man !" 



I 



I 



OHAPTER Xiy. 

'* For maniage is a matter of more woith 
Than to be dealt with in attomeyahip." 

SHAXESniARB. 

"ÂLLOW me to introduce to you, ladies, that most 
high and puissant Prîncess, lier Grâce the Duchess of 
Âltamont^ Marchioness of Norwood, Countess of Pen- 
rose, Baroness of, etc. etc./' cried Lady Emilj, as she 
tibrew open the drawing-room door, and ushered Mary 
into the présence of her mother and sîster, with ail 
the démonstrations of ceremony and respect The 
one frowned — the other coloured. 

** How yastly absurd 1 " cried Lady Juliana 
angrfly. 

''How yastly amusingl" cried Adélaïde con- 
temptaously. 

"How vastly annoying ! " cried Lady Emily ; " to 
think that this litUe Highlander should bear aloft the 
ducal crown, while you and I, Âdelaide, must sneak 
about in shabby straw bonnets," throwing down her 
own in pretended indignation. ''Then to think, 
which is ahnost certain, of her Yiceroying it some 
day ; and you and I, and ail of us, being presented to 
her Majesty — having the honour of her hand to kiss 
— retreating from the royal présence upon our heela 



122 MABRIAGE. 

Oh ! ye Sylphs and Gnomes ! " and she pretended to 
sink down overwhelmed with mortification. 

Lady Emily delighted in tonnenting her aimt and 
cousin, and she saw that she had completely suc- 
ceeded. Mary was disHked by her mother, and 
despised by her sister ; and any attempt to bring her 
forward, or raise her to a level with themselves, never 
failed to excite the indignation of botL The con- 
séquences were always felt by her in the increased 
ill-humour and disdainful indifiference with which she 
was treated ; and on the présent occasion her înjudi- 
cious friend was only brewing phials of wrath for her. 
But Lady Emily never looked to future conséquences 
— ^présent effect was ail she cared for ; and she went 
on to relate seriously, as she called it, but in the most 
exaggerated terms, the admiration which the Duke 
had expressed for Mary, and her own firm belief thai 
she might be Duchess when she chose ; " that is, after 
the expiry of his mouming for the late Duchess. 
Every one knows that he is désirons of having a 
family, and is determined to marry the moment pro- 
priety permits ; he is now decidedly on the look-out, 
for tiie year must be very near a close; and then, 
bail Duchess of Altamont ! " 

"I must désire, Lady Emily, you will find some 
other subject for your wit, and not fill the girFs head 
with foUy and nonsense; there is a great deal too 
much of both already." 

" Take care what you say of the future représenta- 
tive of majesty ; this may be high treason yet ; only I 



KÂBBIAaB. 123 

trast jour Orace will be as generous as Henry the Fifth 
was, and that the Duchess of Altamontr will not remem- 
ber the offences committed agaînst Mary Douglas.'' 

Lady Juliana, to whom a jest was an outrage, and 
raillery incompréhensible, now started up, and, as she 
passionately swept out of the room, threw down a 
stand of hyacinths, which, for the présent, put a stop 
to Lady Emil/s diversion. 

The following day Mrs. Downe Wright arrived 
with her son, evidently primed for falling in loTe at 
first sight He was a very handsome young man, 
gentle, and rather pleasing in his manners; and 
Mary, to whom his mtentions were not so palpable, 
thought him by no means deserving of the contempt 
her cousin had expressed for him. 

" Well I '* cried Lady Emily, after they were gone, 
" the plot begins to thicken ; levers begin to pour in, 
but ail for Mary; how mortifying to you and me, 
Adélaïde 1 Ât this rate we shall hâve nothing to 
boast of in the way of disinterested attachment — 
nobody refused! — nothing renounced! By-and-bye 
Edward will be reckoned a very good match for mCj 
and you will be thought greatly married if you 
succccil in securing Lindore — -poor Lord Lindore, as it 
seems that wretch Placid calls him." 

Adélaïde heard ail her cousîn's taunts in silence 
and with apparent coolness; but they rankled deep 
in a heart already festering with prîde, envy, and 
ambitioa The thoughts of her sister — and that 
lister 80 inf erior to herself — attaining a more splendid 



12i MÀRRIAGX. 

alliance, was not to be endured. True, she lovad 
Lord Lindore, and imagined herself beloved in retum ; 
but even that was not suffîcient to satisfy the craving 
passions of a perverted mind. She did not, indeed, 
attacb impHcit belief to ail that her cousin said on 
the subject ; but she was provoked and irritated at 
the mère supposition of such a thing being possible ; 
for it is not merely the jealous whose happiness is 
the sport of trifles light as air — every evil thought^ 
every unamiable feeling, bears about with it the bane 
of that enjoyment after which it vainly aspires. 

Mary felt the increasing ill- humour which this 
subject drew upon her, without being able to pene- 
trate the cause of it; but she saw that it was dis- 
pleasing to her mother and sister, and that was sofiB.- 
cient to make her wish to put a stop to it She there- 
fore eamestly entreated Lady Emily to end the joke. 

*^ Excuse me," replied her Ladyship, "I shall do 
no such thing. In the first place, there happons to. 
be no joke in the matter. l'm certain, seriously cer- 
tain, or certainly serions, which you like, that you maj 
be Duchess of Altamont, if you pleas& It could be 
no common admiration that prompted his Grâce to 
an original and spontaneous effusion of it I hâve 
met with him before, and never suspected that he had 
an innate idea in his head. I certainly never heard 
him utter anything half so brilliant before — ^it seemed 
quite like the effect of inspiration." 

" But I cannot conçoive, even were it as you say, 
why my mother should be so displeased about it She 



MÀKRIAGE. 125 

maelj cannot suppose me so sîUy as to be elated by 
the unmeaning admiration of any one, or so meanly 
aspiring as to marry a man I could not love, merely 
because he is a Duke. She was incapable of such a 
thing herself, she cannot then suspect me." 

"It seems as impossible to make you enter into 
the characters of your mother and sister as it would 
be to teach them to comprehend yours, and far be it 
from me to act as interpréter betwixt your under- 
Btandings. U you can't even imagine such things as 
préjudice, narrow-mindedness, envy, hatred, and ma- 
lice, your ignorance is bliss, and you had better remain 
in it But you may take my word for one thing, and 
that is, that 'tis a much wiser thing to resist tyranny 
than to submit to it Your patient Grizzles make 
nothing of it^ except in little books : in real life they 
become perfect pack-horses, saddled with the whole 
offences of the f amily. Such will you become unless 
you pluck up spirit and dash out Marry the Duke, 
and drive over the necks of ail your relations ; that's 
my advice to you." 

"And you may rest assured that when I follow 
your advice it shall be in whole not in part" 

" Well, situated so detestably as you are, I rather 
think the best thing you could do would be to make 
yourself Duchess of Altamont How dlsdainful you 
look ! Come, tell me honestly now, would you really 
refuse to be Your Grâce, with ninety thousand a year, 
and remain simple Mary Douglas, passing rich with 
perhapefortyl" 



126 MARRI AGE. 

"Unquestîonably," said Mary. 

" What ! you really prétend to say you would not 
marry the Duke of Altamontî" cried Lady Emily. 
" Not that I would take him myself ; but as you and 
I, though the best of friends, differ widely in our sen- 
timents on most subjects, I should really lîke to know 
how it happens that we coïncide in this one. Very 
différent reasons, I daresay, lead to the same conclu- 
sion ; but I shall generously give you the advantage 
of hearing mine first I shall say nothing of being 
engaged — I shall even banish that idea from my 
thoughts ; but were I free as air — unloving and un- 
loved — I would refuse the Duke of Altamont ; first, 
because he is old — no, first, because he is stupid; 
second, because he is formai; third, because he 
swallows ail Lady Matilda's flummery; fourth, be- 
cause he is more than double my âge ; fif th, because 
he is not handsome ; and, to sum up the whole in the 
sixth, he wants that inimitable Je ne sçais quoi which 
I consider as a necessary ingrédient in the matri- 
monial cup. I shall not, in addition to thèse defects, 
dwell upon his unmeaning stare, his formai bow, his 
little senseless simper, etc. etc. etc. Ail thèse enor- 
mities, and many more of the same stamp, I shall 
pass by, as I bave no doubt they had their due effect 
upon you as well as me; but then I am not like 
you, under the torments of Lady Juliana's authority. 
Were that the case, I should certainly think it à 
blessing to become Duchess of anybody to-morrow." 

"And can you really imagine," said Mary, "that 



IfAERIAGX. 127 

for the sake of shaking off a parent's authority I 
would impose upon myself chaîns stiU heavîer, and 
even more binding 1 Can you suppose I would so far 
forfeit my honour and truth as that I would swear 
to love, honour, and obey, where I could feel neîther 
love nor respect^ and where cold constrained obédience 
would be ail of my duty I could hope to f ulfil î " 

"Love!" exclaimed Lady Emily; "can I crédit 
my ears ? Love ! did you say 1 I thought that had 
only been for naughty ones, such as me; and that 
saints like you would hâve married for anything and 
everjrthing but love ! Prudence, I thought, had been 
the Word with you proper ladies— a prudent marriage ! 
Corne, conf ess, is not that the climax of virtue in the 
creed of your school 1" 

"I never leamt the creed of any school," saîd 
Mary, " nor ever heard any one's sentiments on the 
subject) except my dear Mrs. Douglas's/' 

** Well, I should like to hear your oracle's opinion, 
if you can give it in shorthand." 

" She wamed me there was a passion which was 
very fashionable, and which I should hear a great 
deal of, both in conversation and books, that was 
the resuit of indulged fancy, warm imaginations, and 
ill-regulated minds; that many had fallen into its 
snaxes, deceived by its glowing colours and aUuring 
name; that " 

"A very good sermon, indeed I" interrupted Lady 
Emily ; "but, no offence to Mra Douglas, I think I 
could preach a better myseli Love is a passion that 



ISS MABBIAQl. 

bas been much talked of, often described, and little 
imderstood Cupid bas many counterfeits going 
about the world, wbo pass very well witb tbose whose 
luinds are capable of passion, but not of lova Tbese 
Birmingham Cupids hâve many votaries amongst 
boarding-scbool misses, militia officers, and milliners' 
apprentices; who marry upon the mutual faith of 
blue eyes and scarlet coats; bave dirty bouses and 
sqoalling cbildren, and hâte each oiber most delect- 
ably. Tben tbere is anotiier species for more refined 
soûls, wbich owes its birtb to tbe works of Rousseau, 
Groetbe, Cottdn, eta Its success dépends very much 
upon rocksi woods, and waterf ails ; and it generaUy 
ends daggers, pistols, or poison. But there, I think, 
Lindore would be more éloquent than me, so I shall 
leave it for him to discuss that chapter with you. 
But^ to retum to your own immédiate concems. Pray, 
are you tben positively prohibited from falling in 
love ) Did Mrs. Douglas only dress up a scarecrow 
to frighten you, or had she the candeur to show you 
Love himself in ail bis majestyl" 

" She told me," said Mary, " that there was a love 
wbich even the wisest and most yirtuous need not 
blush to entertain — ^the love of a virtuous objecta 
founded upon esteem, and heightened by similarity 
of tastes and sympathy of f eelings, into a pure and 
devoted attachment: unless I feel ail this, I shall 
never fancy myself in lova" 

"Humph 1 I can't say much as to the similarily of 
tetos and qrmpathy of soûls between the Duke mua 



MABBIÀ6E. 129 

you, but surely you might contrive to feel some love 
and esteem for a coronet and ninety thousand a year/' 

"Suppose I did," said Mary, with a smile, "the 
nozt point is^to honour ; and surely he is as unlikely 
to excite that sentiment as the other. Honour ** 

" I can't hâve a second sermon upon honour. * Can 
honoar take away the grief of a wound ? ' as Falstaff 
says. Love is the only subject I care to preach about ; 
ihough, unlike many young ladies, we can talk about 
other things too ; but as to this Duke, / certainly * had 
rather live on cheese and garlic, in a windmill far, 
than feed on cates, and hâve him talk to me in any 
sommer-house in Chrîstendom ;' and now I hâve had 
Mrs. Douglas's second-hand sentiments upon the sub- 
ject, I should like to hear your own." 

"I hâve never thought much upon the subject," 
said Mary; "my sentiments are therefore ail at 
second-hand, but I shall repeat to you what I think 
is not love, and what isJ* And she repeated thèse 
pretty and well-known lines : — 

CARELESS AND FAITHFUL LOYB. 

To sigh — ^yet feel no pain ; 

To weep — ^yet scarce know why ; 

To sport an heur with beauty's chain, 

Then throw it idly by ; 

To kneel at many a shrîne, 

Tet lay the heart on none ; 

To think ail other charms diviiie 

But those we just haye won : — * 

This is love — careless love— 

Snch 08 kindleth hearts that roTV. 



130 mârbiage. 

To keep one sacred flame 

Tbrongh life, nnchill'd, unmoVd ; 

To love in wint'rj âge the same 

That fiist in youth we loved ; 

To feel that we adore 

With snch refined ezcess, 

That thongh the heart wonld break with man^ 

We could not love with less : — 

This is love — ^faithfol love — 

Snch as saints might feel above. 

"And such as I do feel, and will always feel, for 
mj Edward," said Lady Emily. ^^But there is the 
dressing-bell!" And she flew off, singing— 

*' To keep one sacred flame^" eta 



OHAPTER XV. 

''Somei when they wrîte to their friends, are ail affection ; 
some are wise and sententious ; some strain their powers for 
efforts of gaîety ; some write news, and some write secrets — but 
to make a letter without affection, without wisdom, withoat 
gaiely, without news, and without a secret^ is doubtless the 
great epistolic art*' — ^Dk. Johnson. 

An unusual lengih of tîme had ^apsed since Mary 
had heard from Glenfem, and she was beginning to 
feel some anziety on account of her friends there, 
when her appréhensions were dispeUed by the arrivai 
of a large packet^ containing letters from Mrs. Douglas 
and Aunt Jacky. The former, although the one that 
conveyed the greatest degree of pleasure, was perhaps 
not the one that would be most acceptable to the 
reader. Indeed, it is generally admitted that the 
letters of single ladies are infinitely more lively and 
entertaining than those of married ones— a f act which 
can neither be denied nor accounted for. The f ollow- 
ing is a f aithf ul transcript from the original letter in 
question : — 

"GlBNFEEN CaSTLB, SHIBE, N.B. 

Féb, l^th, 18—. 
" My dear Mary — Yours was received with rmich 
pleasure, as it is always a satisfaction to your friends 



133 ICAERIÀOX. 

hère to know that you are weU and doing wéll. We 
ail take the most smcere interest in yonr health, and 
also in yonr improvements in other respects. But I am 
sorry to say they do not quite keep pace with our 
expectatîons. I must theref ore take this opportunity 
of vnentionvng to you a favU of yours, which, though a 
very great one in itself, is one thai a very slight degree 
of attention on your jpar^, will, I hâve ru> doubt, enable 
you to get entirely the heUer of, It is fortunate for 
youy my dear Mary, that you hâve frimis who are 
always ready to point (Ad your errors to you. For 
waid of that mo^ invaluable MessinÇy yiz. a sincère 
friendy many a one has gone out of the toorld^ no wiser 
in many respects, than when they came into it But 
that) I flatter mysdf will not be your case, as you 
cannot hui be sensible of the great pains n^r sister and 
I hâve taken to point out your faults to you from the 
Iwur of your birth. The one to which I particularly 
allude at présent is, the constant omission of proper 
dates to your lettersy by which means we are àll of ub 
very of ten hrought into most unpleasant sUuaiions. As 
an instance of it, our worthy minister, Mr. M^rone, 
happened to be calling hère the very day we receiyed 
your last letter. Âf ter hearmg it read, he most natttraUy 
inquired the date of it; and I cawnot teU you how 
awJcward we ail feît when we were obliged to conf ess it 
had iwne ! And since I am upon that subject, I think 
it much le^er to tell you candidly that I do not think 
your Aarui of Write by any fwéjans improved It does 
not look as if you bestotœd that pains upon it whidh 






MABRIAGE. 133 

yoa fmdotibtedly ought to do ; for ynthout pains, I ean 
assure you, Mary, you wiU never do any thing welL 
As our admirable grandmother, good Lady Oimachgowl, 
used to say, pains makes gains ; and so it was seen upon ' 
her ; for it was entirely otmng to her pai/ns that the 
Gimachgowl estate was relieved, and came to be what 
it is now, viz. a most valuable and higMy productive 
praperty. 

" I know there are many young people who are very 
api to think it beneaih them to take pams; but I 
sincerely trusta my dear Mary, you hâve more sensé 
than to be so very foolisk Next to a good distinct 
hand of write, and proper stops (whicb I observe you 
never put), the thing mod to be attended to is your 
style, whkh we ail think might be greatly mproved by 
% UMe reflection on jour part, joined to a,few judicious 
hMs from your friend& We are ail of opinion, that 
your periods are too short, and also thai your exprès- 
dons are defidemt in dignity. N&Uher are you suffi- 
eiently circumstantial in your intelligence, even upon 
«abjects of the highest importance. Indeed, upon some 
Bubjects, you commimicaie no information whatever, 
whioh is eertainly very extraordinary in a yowng person, 
who ought to be naturally extremely communicatîve. 
Miss MTry, who is hère upon a visU to us at présent, 
is perfectly astomshed at the total ward of news in your 
Utters, She has a nièce residing in the neighbourhood 
of Baih, who sends her regular lists of the company 
there, and also an account of the most remarkàble events 
that take place thera Indeed, had it not heen for 



134 HAERIA6E. 

Patty M*Pry, we never would hâve heard a syUahle of 
the celebrated Lady Traversas elopement with Sir John 
Conquest; and, indeed, I cannot conceaL from you, 
that we hâve heard more as to what goes on in Lord 
Courtland's famUy through Miss Patty MTry, than 
ever we hâve heard from you, Mary, 

" In short^ I rrmst plainly tell you, hotvever painf ul 
you m&yfed it, that not one of us is ever a whU the 
wîser after reading your leiters than we were before. 
But I am sorry to say this is not the most serions part 
of the convplamt we hâve to make agaînst you. We 
are ail wiïlmg to find excuses for you, even wpon thèse 
points, but I must confess, your neglectîng to reiwrn 
any answers to certain inquiries of your aunts', a/ppea/rs 
to me perfectly inexcusable. Of cowrse, you must 
uvderskmd that I allude to that leUer of your Aunt 
Grizzy'sy dated the I7th of December, wherein she 
expressed a strong désire that you should endeavour to 
make yourself mistress of Dr. Eedgill's opinion with 
respect to lumbago, as she is extremely anxious to hMm 
whether he considers the seat of the disorder to be in 
the bones or the sinews ; and undoubtedly it is of the 
greatest conséquence to procure the opmion of a sensible 
well-informed English j^Aysicion, upon a subject of such 
vital imjportcmce. Tour Aunt Nicky, also, in a letter, 
daied the 22d of December, requested to be informed 
whether Lord Courtland (like our ffreaé landholders) 
killed his own fmUtony as Miss P. MT. insinuâtes in a 
leiter to her aunt, tliat the servants there are suE^ected 
of being guilty of great abuses on that soore; but there 



KAERIAGE. 135 

70a also préserve a most unbecoming, and I own I 
think somewhcU mysterious sUence, 

" Ând now, my dear Mary, hcmag saîd ail that / 
trust is necessary to recall you to a sensé of yowr duty, 
I âwll now communicate to you 9k pièce of intelligence, 
which^ I am certain, will occasion you the mosi un- 
feigned pleasure, viz. the prospect there is of your 
soon heholdAn^ some of your friends from this quarter 
in Bath. Our valuable friend and neighbovr, Sir 
Sampson, has beeu rather (we think) worse than better 
since you left us. He is now deprived of the entire use 
of one leg. He himseîf calls his complairU a morbid 
rheumatism ; but Lady Maclaughlan assv/res us it is a 
rheumatic palsy, and she has now/(>r7?i^ the resolu- 
tion of tdking him up to Bath early in the ensuing 
spritig. And not only that, but she has most con- 
siderately mvUed your Âunt Grizzy to accompany 
them, whichj of course, she is to do with the greatest 
pleasure, We are theref ore ail extremely ocoupied in 
getting your aunt's things pvi in order for such an 
occasion ; and you must accept of that as an apology 
for none of the girls heing at leisure to write yow at 
présent, and likewise for the shortness of this letter. 
But be assured we will ail tvrite you fully by Grizzy. 
Meantime, ail imite in kind remembrance to yoiu And 
I am^ my dear Mary, your most a£fectionate aunt» 

"JOANDOTJGLAa" 

•*P.S. — Upon hoUng over your letter, I am much 
ûrwk with your X'& You surely cannot be so igno- 



136 HÀBKIAGK. 

rant sanotio know that a well mode x is neither moie 
nor less than ttvo c^b joined together back to back, 
instead of thèse senseless crosses you seem so fond of ; 
and as to your )/s^ I defy any one to distingoish them 
from your y& I trust you will attend to this, and 
show that it proceeds rather from want of proper 
attention than fiom wilful aira J. D." 

"P. S. — ^Miss P. M*Pry torites her aunt that there is 
a strong r^ort of Lord Lindore's marriage to our nièce 
Adélaïde ; but we think that is impossible, as you cer- 
taînly never could hâve omitted to inform us of a cir- 
cumstance which so deeply concems us. If so, I must 
ovm I shall think you quite unpardonable, At the 
same time, it aj>peœrs extremely improbable that Miss 
MT. vmdfl hâve mentioned such a thing to her aimt, 
without having good grounds to go upon. J. D." 

Mary could not entirely repress her mirth while 
she read this catalogue of her crimes ; but she was, 
at the same time, eager to expiate her offences, real 
or imaginary, in the sight of her good old aunt ; and 
she immediately sat down to the construction of a 
letter af ter the model prescribed ; — though with little 
expectation of being able to cope with the intelligent 
Miss P. M*P. in the extent of her communications. 
Her heart warmed at the thoughts of seeing again 
the dear familiar face of Aunt Grizzy, and of hearing 
the tones of that voice, which, though sharp and 
cracked, still sounded sweet in memory's ear. Such 
is the power that early associations ever retain over 



MABSUaK 137 

ihe kind and uxusophisticated heart But she was 
aware how differenUj her mother would feel on the 
subject, as she never àlluded to her husband's family 
but with indigi^ation or contempt ; and she theref ore 
resolved to be silent with regard to Aunt Grizzj's 
prospects for the présent 



1 



OHAPTEB XVI 

'*.... Ab in apothecarîes' shops ail sorts of drags axe per- 
mitted to be, so may ail sorts of books be in the libraiy ; and as 
they ont of vipers, and scorpions, and poisonoos vegetables ex- 
tract often wholesome médicaments for the life of mankind, so 
ont of wbatsoever book good instruction and ezamples may be 
acquired" — DauMMONS 0/ Hawthomden, 

Mabt's thoughts had often reverted to Bose Hall 
since the day she had last quitted it, and she longed 
to fulfil her promise to her vénérable friend ; but a 
feeling of delicacy, unknown to herself, withheld her. 
'* She will not miss me while she bas her son with 
her," said she to herself ; but in reality she dreaded 
her cousin's raillery should she continue to viâit there 
as frequently as befora At length a favourable 
opportunity occurred Lady Emily, with great ex- 
ultation, told her the Duke of Altamont was to dine 
at Beech Park the following day, but that she was to 
conceal it froin Lady Juliana and Adélaïde; ''for 
assuredly," said she, "if they were apprised of it^ 
they would send you up to the nursery as a naughty 
girl, or perhaps down to the scullery, and make a 
Cinderella of you. Dépend upon it you would not 
get leave to show your face in the drawing-room." 



f 1 



MARRUGE. 139 

" Do you really think so ? " asked Mary. 

" I know it I know Lady Julîana would torment 
you tdll she had set you a crying ; and then she would 
tell you you had made yourself such a frîght that you 
were not fit to be seen, and so order you to your own 
room. You know very well it would not be the first 
time that such a thing has happened" 

Mary could not deny the fact; but^ sick of idle 
altercation, she resolved to say nothing, but walk 
over to Eose Hall the f ollowîng moming. Ând thîs 
she did, leavîng a note for her cousm, apologising for 
her flight 

She was received with rapture by Mr& Lennox. 

*^Ah! my dear Mary," saîd she, as she tenderly 
embraced her, "you know not^ you cannot conçoive, 
what a blank your absence makes in my lif e ! When 
you open your eyes in the moming, it is to see the 
light of day and the faces you love, and ail is bright- 
ness arôund you. But when I wake it is still to 
darknes& My night knows no end. 'Tis only when 
I listen to yoiu* dear voice that I forget I am blind." 

" I should not hâve stayed so long from you," said 
Mary, "but I knew you had Colonel Lennox with 
you, and I could not flatter myself you would hâve 
even a thought to bestow upon me." 

" My Charles is, indeed, everything that is kind 
and devoted to me. He walks with me, reads to me, 
talks to me, sits with me for hours, and bears with ail 
my little weaknesses as a mother would with her sick 
cihild; bat still there are a thousand little féminine 



140 IfAKBIAGE. 

attentions he cannot understand. I would not tibat 
he did. And then to hâve him always with me seems 
so selfish ; for, gentle and tender-hearted as he is, I 
know he bears the spîrit of an eagle within him ; and 
the tame monotony of my lif e can 111 accord with the 
nobler habits of hi& Yet he says he is happy with 
me, and I try to make myself believe him." 

"Indeed," said Mary, "I cannot doubt ît It is 
always a happiness to be with those we love, and 
whom we know love us, under any circumstances ; 
and it is for that reason I love so much to come to 
my dear Mrs. Lennox," caressing her as she spoka 

'*Dearest Mary, who would not love youî Oh! 
could I but see — could I but hope " 

" You must hope everything you désire," said Mary 
gaily, and little guessing the nature of her good 
friend's hopes ; " I do nothing but hope." And she 
trîed to check a sigh, as she thought how some of her 
best hopes had been already blighted by the unkindness 
of those whose love she had vainly striven to win. 

Mrs. Lennoz's hopes were already upon her lips, 
when the entrance of her son fortunately prevented 
tàeir being for ever destroyed by a prématuré dis- 
closure. He welcomed Mary with an appearance of 
the greatest pleasure, and looked so much happier 
and more animated than when she last saw him, that 
she was struck with the change, and began to think 
he might almost stand a comparison with his picture. 

*' You find me still hère. Miss Douglas," said he, 
''although my mother gives me many hints to be 



MABRIAOI. 141 

gone, by insmuating what indeed cannot be donbted, 
how very ill I supply your place ; but — " tuming to his 
mother — " you are not likely to be rid of me for some 
time, as I bave just received an addîtional leave of 
absence; but for that^ I must bave left you to- 
morrow." 

"Dear Cbarles, you never told me so. How could 
you conceal it from me? How wretched I should 
bave been had I dreamed of sucb a tbing !'' 

" Tbat is tbe very reason for which I concealed it, 
and yet you reproacb me. Had I told you tbere was 
a chance of my going, you would assuredly bave set 
it down for a certainty, and so bave been vexed for 
no puipose." 

^'Bat your remaining was a chance too/' saîd Mrs. 
Lennox, wbo could not ail at once reconcile herself 
even to an escwpe from danger ; '^ and think, had you 
been called away from me without any préparation ! 
— Indeed, Charles, it was very imprudent" 

^'My dearest mother, I meant it in kindnesa I 
could not bear to give you a moment's certain uneasi- 
ness for an uncertain evil. I really cannot discover 
either the use or the virtue of tormenting one's self 
by anticipation. I should think it quite as rational 
to case myself in a suit of mail, by way of security to 
my person, as to keep my mind perpetually on the 
rack of anticipating eviL I perfectly agrée with that 
philosopher wbo says, if we confine ourselves to gene- 
nJ reflections on the evils of life, that can bave no 
effeot in preparing us for them ; and if we bring them 



142 MABRIAGE. 

home io us, thcU is the certain means of rendering 
ourselves misérable," 

"But they will corne, Charles," said his mother 
mournfully, "whether we bring them or not." 

"True, my dear mother; but when misfortune 
does corne, it comes commissioned from a higher 
power, and it will ever find a well-regulated mind 
ready to receive it with révérence, and submit to it 
with résignation. There is something, too, in real 
eorrow that tends to enlarge and exalt the soûl ; but 
the imaginary evils of our own creating can only serve 
to contract and depress it" 

Mrs. Lennox shook her head. " Ah ! Charles, you 
may dépend upon it your reasoning is wrong, and you 
will be convinced of it some day." 

"I am convinced of it already. I begin to fear 
this discussion will frighten Miss Douglas away from 
us. There is an evil anticipated ! Now, do you, my 
dear mother, help me to avert it ; where tha.t can be 
done, it cannot be too soon apprehended." 

As Colonel Lennox's character unfolded itsel^ 
Mary saw much to admire in it ; and it is more than 
probable the admiration would soon hâve been re- 
ciprocal, had it been allowed to take its course. But 
good Mrs. Lennox would force it into a thousand 
little channels prepared by herself, and love itself 
must hâve been quickly exhausted by the perpétuai 
demands that were made upon it. Mary would hâve 
been deeply mortified had she suspected the cause of 
her fidend's solicitude to show her ofF; but she was a 



! I 



HAKRIAGIS. 143 

stranger to match-makiDg in ail îts bearings, had 
scarcely ever read a novel in her life, and was con- 
sequently not at ail aware of the necessity there was 
for her f alling in love with ail convenient speed. She 
was therefore sometîmes amused, thongh oftener 
ashamed, at Mrs. Lennox's panegyrics, and could not 
but smile as she thought how Aunt Jacky's wrath 
would hâve been kindled had she heard the extrava- 
gant praises that were bestowed on her most trifling 
accomplishments. 

" You must sing my favourite song to Charles, my 
love — he has never heard you sing. Pray do : you 
did not use to require any entreaty from me, Mary ! 
Many a time you hâve gladdened my heart with your 
songs when, but for you, it would hâve been filled 
with moumful thoughts !" 

Mary, finding whateV^er she did or did not^ she 
was destined to hear only her own praises, was glad 
to take refuge at the harp, to which she sang the fol- 
lowing ancient ditty : — 

'* Sweet day 1 so cool, so calm, so bright, 
The bridai of the earth and sky, 
Sweet dews shall weep thy fall to-night, 

For thou must die. 

'* Sweet rose ! wbose hue, angry and brave, 
Bids therash gazer wipe his eye, 
Thy root is ever in its grave ; 

And thou must die. 

** Sweet spring ! fnll of sweet days and zdms, 
A box where sweets compacted lie, 
My music shows you hâve your closes, 

And ail must die. 






144 icABBUca 

** Only a gweet and virtnonfl son]* 

lîke season'd timber, neyer gÎTM ; 
Bot when the whole world torns to ooa]» 

Then chiefly lir- * 



" That^" said Colonel Lennoz; " is one of the inany 
exquisite little pièces of poetry which are to be f ound, 
like jewels in an Ethiop'« ear, in mj fayonrite Isaao 
Walton. The title of the book offers no encourage- 
ment to f emale readers, bat I know f ew works from 
which I rise with such renovated feelings of bene- 
Yolence and good-wilL Indeed, I know no author 
who has given with so much rumeU so enchantîng a 
picture of a pions and contented mind. Hère — " 
taking the book from a shelf, and tuming over the 
leaves — '^is one of the passages which has so often 
chaimed me: — *That very honr which you were 
absent from me, I sat down onder a willow by the 
water-side, and considered what you had told me of 
the owner of that pleasant meadow in which yoa left 
me — that he has a plentiful estate, and not a heart to 
think so; that he has at this time many lawsnits 
depending, and that they both damped his mirth, and 
took up so much of his time and thoughts that he 
himself had not leisure to take that sweet comf ort I, 
who pretended no title to them, took in his fields ; 
for I oould there sit quietly, and, looking in the water, 
see some fishes sport themselves in the silver streams, 
others leaping at Aies of seyeral shapes and colouia 
Looking on the hills, I could 1)ehold them spoited 
with woods and groves; looking down upon fha 



HABBIAGK 145 

meadowB I could see, hère a boy gathering lilies and 
lady-smocks, and there a gîrl cropping culverkeys and 
cowslips, ail to make garlands suîtable to this présent 
month of May. Thèse, and many other field flowers, 
80 perf umed tbe air, that I thought that veiy meadow 
like that field in Sicily, of which Dîodoras speaks, 
where the perfumes arising from the place make aU 
dogs that hunt in it to f ail off and lose their scent 
I say, as I thus sat joying in my own happy condition, 
and pitying this poor rich man that owned this and 
many other pleasant grèves and meadows about me, 
I did then thankfully remember what my Sayiour 
said, that the meek jpossess the earth — or, rather, they 
enjoy what the others possess and enjoy not; for 
anglers and meek-spirited men are free from those 
high, those restless thoughts, which corrode the sweets 
of lif e ; and they, and they only, can say, as the poet 
has happily ezpressed it — 

' Hail, blest estate of lowliness ! 

Happy enjoyments of sucli minds 
Aa, rich in self-contentedness, 

Can, like the reeds in ronghest winds, 
6y yielding, make that blow but small, 
By which proud oaks and cedars falL' " 

** There is both poetry and paintîng in such prose 
as this," said Mary; "but I should certainly as soon 
hâve thought of looking for a pearl necklace in a fish- 
pond as of finding pretty poetry in a treatise upon the 
art of angling." 

'* That book was a favourite of yonr father'a^ 
VOL. n. L X. 



146 liABBUGE. 

Charles,'' said Mra Lennox, "and I remember, in 
our happiest dAys, he used to read parts of it to me. 
One passage in partîcular made a strong impression 
npon me, thongh I little thought then it wonld ever 
apply to me. It is upon the blessings of sight In- 
dnlge me by reading it to me once again." 

Colonel Lennox made an effort to conquer bis f eel- 
ings, while he read as f oUows : — 

" What wotdd a blind man give to see the pleasant 
livers, and meadows, and flowers, and fountains^ that 
we hâve met with ! I bave been told that if a man 
that was bom blind conld attain to bave bis sight for 
but oîdy one hour during bis whole lif e, and sbould, at 
the first opening of bis eyes, fix bis sight upon the 
Sun when it was in its full glory, either at the lising 
or the setting, he would be transported and amazed, 
and so admire the gloiy of it that he would not wîll- 
ingly tum bis eyes from that first ravisbing object to 
behold ail the other varions beauties this world could 
présent to them. And this, and many other like 
objects, we enjoy daîly " 

 deep sigh from Mrs. Lennox made ber son look 
up. Her eyes were bathed in tears. 

He threw bis arms around her. ''My dearest 
mother!" cried he in a voice choked with agitation, 
"how cruel — ^how unthinking — thus to remind yon 



» 



"Do not reproach yourself for my weakness, dear 
Charles ; but I was thinking how much rather, could 
I baye my sight but for one hour, I would look upôn 



r I 



MABRIAGE. 147 

the face of my own child than on ail the glories of 
the création !" 

Colonel Lennox was too deeply affected to speak. 
He pressed his mother's hand to his lips — ^tiien rose 
abraptly, and quitted the room. Mary succeeded in 
soothing her weàk and agitated spîrits into composure; 
but the chord of feeling had been jarred, and ail her 
efforts to restore it to its former tone proved abortive 
for the rest of the day. 



OHAPTER XVa 

** Friendfihip is constant in ail other thingi 

Save in the office and affairs of love : 

Therefore ail hearts in love use their own tooglies } 

Let every eye negotîate for itseK, 

And trust no agent.*' 

Mttch Ado eUnnU NotkSng, 

é 

TuERE was something so ref reshîng in the domestic 
peacefulness of Rose Hall, when contrasted with the 
heartless bustle of Beech Park, that Mary felt too 
happy in the change to be in anj hurry to quit it 
But an unfortunate discovely soon tumed afl her en- 
joyment into bittemess of heart ; and Eose Hall, from 
being to her a place of rest, was suddenly transf ormed 
into an abode too hatefol to be endured 

It happened one day as she entered the drawing- 
room, Mrs. Lennox was, as usual, assailing the heart 
of her son in her behall A large Indian screen 
divided the room, and Mary's entrance was neither 
seen nor heard till she was close by them. 

*' Oh, certainly, Miss Douglas is àll that you say — 
very pretty — very amiable — and very accomplished," 
said Colonel Lennox, with a sort of half-suppressed 
yawn, in answer to a oulogiom of his mother^& 

<'Then why not love heri Ah I Charles promiis 



1CABBU0& 149 

me that 70a will at least tryT' sald the good old 
lady, laying her hand upon his with the greatest 
eamestness. 

This was said when Mary was actaally standing 
before her. To hear the words, and to feel theîr 
application, was a flash of lightning; and for a 
moment she felt as if her braîn were on fira She 
was alive but to one idea, and that the most painfol 
that could be saggested to a délicate mind. She had 
heard herself recommended to the love of a man who 
was indiffèrent to her. Could there be such a humilia- 
tion — such a dégradation ? Colonel Lennox's embar- 
rassment was scarcely less ; but his mother saw not 
the mischîef she had done, and she continued to speak 
without his having the power to intermpt her. But 
her words f ell unheeded on Mary's ear — she could hear 
nothing but what she had already heard. Colonel 
Lennox rose and respectfully placed a chair for her, 
but the action was unnoticed — she saw only herself a 
suppliant for his love ; and, insensible to everything 
but her own f eelings, she tumed and hastily qui^ted 
the room without uttering a syllable. To fly from 
Bose Hall, never again to enter it» was her first resolu- 
tion ; yet how was she to do so without coming to an 
explanation, worse even than the cause itself : for she 
had that yeiy moming yielded to the solicitations of 
Mrs. Lennox, and consented to remain till the f ollow- 
ing day. 

" Oh !'' thought she, as the scalding tears of shame 
for the first time dropped from her eyes, "what a 



150 MÂBBIAGB. 

situation am I placed in ! To continue to Kre under 
the same roof with the man whom I hâve heard soli- 
cited to love me; and how mean — how despicable 
must I appear in bis eyes — thus offered — rejected ! 
How shall I ever be able to convince bim tbat I care 
not for bis love — tbat I wished it not — ^tbat I would 
refuse, scom it to-morrow were it offered to ma Ob ! 
could I but tell bim so ; but be must ever remain a 
stranger to my real sentiments-^Ae migbt reject — ^but 
/eannot disavow ! And jet to bave bim tbink tbat I 
bave ail tbis wbile been laying snares for bim — ^tbat 
ail tiÙB parade of my acquirements was for the purpose 
of gaiJg his affections ! Oh how blind and Sd I 
was not to see tbrougb tbe injudicious praises of Mrs, 
Lennox ! I sbould not tben bave suffered tbis dégra- 
dation in the eyes of ber son !" 

Hours passed away unbeeded by Mary, wbile she 
was giving way to tbe wounded sensibility of a natu- 
raUy high spirit and «jute feelings, thuB violently 
excited in ail tbeir first ardour. At lengtb sbe was 
recalled to berself by bearing tbe sound of a carriage, 
as it passed under ber window ; and immediately after 
sbe received a message to repair to tbe drawing-room 
to ber cousin, Lady Emily. 

" How f ortunate ! " tbougbt sbe ; " I sball now get 
away — no matter bow or wbere, I sball go, never again 
to retum." 

And, uneonscious of tbe agitation visible in ber 
countenance, sbe bastily descended, impatient to bid 
an etemal adieu to ber once loved Bose HalL She 



MABRIAGE. 151 

found Lady Emîly and Colonel Lennox together. 
Eyes less penetratîng than her cousîn's would easîly 
hâve discovered the state of poor Mary's mînd as she 
entdred the room; her beating heart — her flushed 
oheek and averted eye, ail declared the perturbation 
of her spirits ; and Lady Emily regarded her for a 
moment wîth an expression of surprise that served to 
heighten her confusîoiL 

"I hâve no doubt I am a very unwelcome visiter 
hère to ail parties," said she; "for I come — how 
shall I déclare itt — to cany you home, Mary, by 
command of Lady Juliana." 

"No, nol" exclaimed Mary eagerly; "you are 
quite welcoma I am quite ready. I was wishing 
— I was waiting." Then, recollecting herself, she 
blushed still deeper at her own précipitation. 

**There is no occasion to be so yehemently obedi- 
ent," said her cousin ; " 7 am not quite ready, neither 
am I wishing or waiting to be off in such a hurry. 
Colonel Lenuox and I had just set about reviving 
an old acquaintance ; begun, I can't tell when — and 
broken off when I was a thing in the nursery, wîth a 
blue sash and red fingers. I hâve promised him that 
when he comes to Beech Park you shall sîng him my 
favourite Scotch song, /Should auld acquaintance be 
forgotî' I would sing it myself if I could; but I 
think eyery Englishwoman who prétends to sing 
Scotch songs ought to hâve the bowstring." Then, 
tuming to the harpsichord, she b^gan to play it with 
exquisite taste and f eeling. 



152 MAREIA.GE. 

"There," said she, rising with equal levity; "îb 
not that worth ail the formai bows — and ' recollects 
to hâve had the pleasure' — and 4ong time sînce I 
had the honour' — and such sort of hateful réminis- 
cences, that make one feel nothing but that they are 
a great deal older, and uglier, stupider, and more 
formai than they were so many years before." 

"Where the early ties of the heart remain un- 
broken/' said Colonel Lennox, with some émotion, 
'^such remembrances do indeed give it back ail its 
fîrst freshness; but it cannot be to every one a pleasure 
to hâve its feelings awakened even by tones such as 
thèse." 

There was nothing of austerity in this; on the 
contrary, there was so much sweetness mingled with 
the melancholy which shaded his countenance, that 
even Lady Emily was touched, and for a moment 
silent The entrance of Mrs. Lennox relieved her 
from her embarrassment. She flew towards her, and 
taking her hand, " My dear Mra Lennox, I feel very 
much as if I were come hère in the capacity of an 
executioner ; — ^no, not exactly that, but rather a sort 
of constable or bailiflf ; — for I am come, on the part of 
Lady Juliana Douglas, to summon you to surrender 
the person of her well-beloved daughter, to be dis- 
posed of as she in her wisdom may think fit" 

" Not to-day, surely," cried Mrs. Lennox, in alarm ; 
" to-morrow " 

" My orders are peremptory — the suit is pressing," 
with a significant smile to Mary; "this day — oh, ye 



MABBIAGE. 153 

hours!" looldng at a timepiece, 'Hhis rery minute. 
Corne Mary — are you ready — cap-àrpie?*^ 

At another tîme Mary would hâve thought only of 
ihe regrets of her vénérable frîend at parting with 
her j but now slie f elt only her own impatience to be 
gone, and she hastily quitted the room to prépare for 
her departura 

On retuming to it Colonel Lennox adranced to 
meet her, evidently désirons of saying something, yet 
labourîng under greàt embarrassment 

" Were it not too selfish and presumptuous," said 
he, while his heightened colour spoke his confusion, 
'^ I would Tenture to express a hope that your absence 
will not be very long from my poor mother." 

Mary pretended to be very busy collecting her 
work, drawings, eta, which lay scattered about, and 
merely bent her head in acknowledgment Colonel 
Lennox proceeded — 

" I am aware of the sacrifice it must be to such as 
Miss Douglas to dévote her time and talents to the 
comf orting of the blind and desolate ; and I cannot 
express — she cannot conçoive — the gratitude — ^the re- 
spect — the admiration, with which my heart is filled 
at such proofs of noble disinterested benevolence on 
her part" 

Had Mary raised her eyes to those that vainly 
sought to meet hors, she would there hâve read ail, 
and more than had been expressed; but she could 
only think, **He has been entreated to love !" and at 
that humiliating idea she bent her head still lower to 



»l 



154 MABRIÀOB. 

hide the coloor that dyed her cheek to an almost 
paînful degree, while a sensé of suffocation at hei 
throat prevented her disclaîming, as she wîshed to do, 
the merit of any sacrîfica Some sketches of Loch- 
marlie lay upon a table at which she had been draw 
ing the day bef ore ; they had ever been precîous in 
her sight tîll now ; bat they only excited f eelings of 
mortification, as she recollected having taken them 
from her portefemlh at Mis. Lennoz's request to 
show to her son. 

'^This was part of the parade by which I was to 
win him," thonght she with bittemess ; and soarcely 
consdous of what she did, she cnished them together, 
and threw them into the fire. Then hastily advanc- 
ing to Mrs. Lennox, she trîed to bid her farewell; 
but as she thonght it was for the last time, tears of 
tendemess as well as pride stood in her eyes. 

'^God bless you, my dear child I" said the nnsos- 
pe6tîng Mrs. Lennox, as she held her in her arma 
"And God wUl bless you in His way — ^though His 
ways are not as our ways. I cannot urge you to re- 
tom to this dreary abod& Bat oh, Mary! think 
sometimes in your gaiety, that when you do corne, 
you bring gladness to a moumful heart, and lighten 
eyes that never see the son !" 

Mary, too much affected to reply, coald only wring 
the hand of her vénérable friend, as she tore herself 
from her embrace, and followed Lady Emily to the 
earriag& For some time they proceeded in silenoe. 
Maxy dreaded to encounter her ooosin's eyet^ whieh 



MABRUGS. 155 

ahe was aware were fixed upon her vnih. more than 
their usual scratiny. She therefore kept hers steadfly 
employed in surveying the well-known objecta the 
road presented. At length her Ladyship began in a 
grave tona 

" You appear to bave had yery stormy weather at 
Rose HaU î" 

" Very mucb so," replied Mary, without knowing 
yery well what sbe said. 

^'Ând we bave bad notbing bat calms and sun- 
sbine at Beecb Park. Is not tbat strange f 

" Very singular indeed.** 

"I left tbe barometer very bigb — not quite at 
seUled calm — tbat would be too mucb ; but I find it 
very low indeed — absolutely below notbing." 

Mary now did look up iQ some surprise ; but sbe 
hastily witbdrew from tbe intolérable expression of 
her cousin's eye& 

'^Dear Lady Emily!" cried sbe in a deprecating 
tone. 

"Well — what more? You can't suppose Fm to 
put up witb heanng my own name ; IVe beard tbat 
fifty times to-day already from Lady Juliana's parrot 
— come, your face speaks volumes. I read a déclara- 
tion of love in tbe colour of your cheeks — ^a refusai 
in tbe beigbt of your nose — and a sort of gênerai 
agitation in tbe quiver of your lip and tbe dérèglement 
of your hair. Now for your puise — a leetUe basty, as 
Dr. Bedgill would say ; but let your tongue déclare 
theiest'' 



156 MARRIAQB. 

Mary would fain hâve concealed the cause of her 
distress from every human being, as she felt as if de- 
graded still lower by repeatîng it to another ; and she 
remaîned silent^ straggling with her émotions. 

" Ton my honour, Mary, you really do use great 
liberties with my patience and good-natura I appeal 
to yourself whether I might not just as well hâve been 
reading one of Tully's orations to a mule ail this while. 
Corne, you must really make haste to tell your taie, 
for I am dying to disclose min& Or shall I begîn ? 
No — that would be inverting the order of nature or 
custom, which is the same thing— beginning with the 
farce, and ending with ihe tragedy — 8o commencez au 
commencem^enty m^amie" 

Thus urged, Mary at length, and with much hésita- 
tion^ related to her coi^n the humiliation she had 
experienced. " And after ail," saîd she, as she ended, 
" I am afraid I behaved very like a fooL And yet 
what could I do ? In my situation, what would you 
hâve donel" 

" Done ! why, I should hâve taken the old woman 
by the shoulder, and cried Boh ! in her ear. And so 
this is the mighty matter ! You happen to overhear 
Mrs. Lennox, good old soûl ! recommending you as a 
wif e to her son. What could be more natuiul ? except 
bis refusing to fall head in ears in love before he had 
time to pull his boots off. And then to bave a wife 
recommended to him ! and aU your perfections set 
forth, as if you had been a laundrymaid — an early 
riser, neat worker, regular attention upon church] 



1 

I 



MARRIAGIB. 157 

Ugh ! — ^I nmsfc say I thînk his conduct quîte meritori- 
ous. I could almost find in my heart to fall in love 
with hÎTïi myself, were it for no other reason than 
because he is not such a Tommy Goodchild as to be 
in love at his mamma's bidding — that is, loving his 
mother as he does — for I see he could eut off a hand, 
or pluck out an eye, to please her, though he can't or 
won't gîve her his heart and soûl to dispose of as she 
thinks proper." 

" You quite misunderstand me," saîd Mary, with 
increasing vexation. "I did not mean to say any- 
thing against Colonel Lennox. I did not wiah — I 
never once thought whether he liked me or not" 

"That says very little for you, You must hâve a 
veiy bad taste if you care more for the mother's 
liking than the son's. Then what vexes you so much? 
Is it at having made *the discovery that your good old 
friend is a — a — I beg your pardon — a bit of a goose î 
Well, never mind — since you don't care for the man, 
there's no mischief dona You hâve only to change 
the dramcUis personœ. Fancy that you overheard me 
recommending you to Dr. Eedgill for your skill in 
cookery — ^you*d only hâve laughed at that — so why 
should you weep at t^other. However, one thing I 
must tell you, whether it adds to your grief or not, I 
did remark that Charles Lennox looked very lover- 
like towards you; and, indeed, this sentimental passion 
Jie has put you in becomes you excessively. I really 
never saw you look so handsome before — it has given 
an eneigy and esprii to your countenance, which is the 



( I 



158 IfARRUGE. 

only thîng ît wants. You are very much oblîged to 
him, were it only for having kindled such a fiie in 
yonr eyes, and raîsed such a carnation in your cheek. 
It would hâve been long before good larmoyante Mrs. 
Lennox would bave done as much for you. I shouldn't 
wonder were he to fall in love with you after alL" 

Lady Emily little thought how near she was to the 
truth when she talked in this random way. Colonel 
Lennox saw the wound he had innocently inflicted on 
Mary's feelings, and a warmer sentiment than any he 
had hitherto experienced had sprung up in his heart 
Formerly he had merely looked upon her as an amiable 
sweet-tempered girl ; but when he saw her roused to 
a sensé of her own dignity, and marked the struggle 
betwixt tender aflfection and oiffended delicacy, he 
formed a higher estimate of her character, and a spark 
was kindled that wanted but opportunity to blaze into 
a flame, pure and bright as the shrine on whîch it 
bumed. Such is the waywardness and caprice of even 
the best affections of the human breast 



CHAPTEE XVnL 

" (jest a moi de choinr mon gendrs ; 

Toi, tel qu'il est, c'est à toi de le prendre ; 

De vous aimer, si vous pouvez tous deux, 

St d'obéir à tout ce que je veux." 

L^ Enfant Prodigut, 

" And now," said Lady Emfly, " that I hâve listened 
to jour stoiy, which after ail is really a very poor 
affair» do you listen to mina The heroine in both is 
the same, but the hero differs by some degrees. Know, 
then, as the ladies in novels say, that the day which 
saw you départ from Beech Park was the day destîned 
to dedde your f ate, and dash your hopes, if ever you 
had any, of becoming Duchess of Altamont The 
Duke arrived, I know, for the express purpose of 
being enamoured of you; but, alas! you were not 
And there was Adelaide so sweet — so gracions — so 
beautiful — the poor gull was caught^ and is now, I 
really believe, as much in love as it is in the nature 
of a stupid man to be. I must own she has played 
her part adniirably, and has made more use of her 
time than I, with ail my rapidity, could hâve thought 
possibla In fact^ the Duke is now ail but her de- 
clared lover, and that merely stands upon a point of 
punctilio." 



160 HABBIAaK. 

"But Lord lindore!" exdaimed Mary in aston- 
îshment 

" Why, that part of the story is what I don't quite 
comprehend. Sometîmes I think it is a straggle with 
Adelaida Lindore, poor, handsome, captivating, on 
one hand ; his Grâce, rich, stupid, magnificent, on the 
othen As for Lindore, he seems to stand quite alool 
Formerly, you know, he never used to stir from her 
sîde, or notice any one elsa Now he searcely notices 
her, at least in présence of the Duka Sometimes 
he affects to look unhappy, but I believe it is mère 
affectation. I doubt if he ever thought seriously of 
Adelaide, or indeed anybody else, that he could hare 
in a straîghtf orward AUy Croker sort of a way — ^but 
something too much of this. While ail this has been 
going on in one corner, there cornes regularly eveiy 
day Mr. William Downe Wright^ looking very much 
as if he had lost his shoestring, or pocket hankerchief, 
and had come there to look for it I had some sus- 
picion of the nature of the loss, but was hopeful he 
would hâve the sensé to keep it to himsell No such 
thing : he yesterday stumbled upon Lady Juliana ail 
alone, and, in the weakest of his weak moments, 
informed her that the loss he had sustained was no 
less than the loss of that precious jewel his heart ; and 
that the object of his search was no other than that 
of Miss Mary Douglas to replace it ! He even carried 
his bêtise so far as to request her permission, or her 
influence, or, in short, something that her Ladyahip 
never was asked for by any mortal in their senset 



MABBIAGE. 161 

before, to aid hîm in his pursuit You know how ît 
delights her to be dressed in a little brief authority; 
80 you may conceive her transports at seeing the 
sceptre of power tbus placed in her hands. In the 
heat of her pride she makes the matter known to the 
whole household. Kedgills, cooks, stable-boys, scul- 
lions, ail are quite au fait to your marriage with Mr. 
Downe Wright; so I hope you'll allow that it was 
about time you should be made acquainted with it 
yourself. But why so pale and frightened-looking ?" 

Poor Mary was indeed shocked at her cousines 
intelligence. With the highest feelings of filial 
révérence, she found herself perpetually called upoli 
either to sacrifice her own principles or to act in 
direct opposition to her mother's will, and upon this 
occasion she saw nothing but endless altercation await- 
ing her; for her heart revolted from the indelicacy 
of such measures, and she could not for a moment 
brook the idea of being bestowed in marriage. But 
8he had little time for reflection. They were now at 
Beech Park ; and as she alighted a servant informed 
her Lady Juliana wished to see her in her dressing- 
room immediately. Thither she repaired with a 
beating heart and agitated step. She was received 
with greater kindness than she had ever yet ex- 
perienced from her mother. 

"Come in, my dear," cried she, as she extended 
two fingers to her, and slightly touched her cheek. 
"You look very well this moming — ^much better than 
uaoaL Your complexion is much improved. At the 

YOIi. n. M IL 



162 MARRIAGE. 

same tîme you must be sensible how few gîrls are 
married merely for their looks — that is, married well 
— iinless, to be sure, their beauty is something à 
merveilleuse — such as your sister's, for instance. I 
assure you, it is an extraordinary pièce of good 
fortune in a merely pretty girl to make what is vul- 
garly called a good match. I know, at least, twenty 
really very nice young women at this moment who 
cannot get themselves established." 

Mary was silent; and her mother, delighted at 
her own good sensé and judicious observations, went 
on — 

" That being the case, you may judge how very 
comfortable I must feel at having managed to pro- 
cure for you a most excessive good establishment — 
just the very thing I hâve long wished, as I hâve 
f elt quite at a loss about you of late, my dear. When 
your sister marries, I shall, of course, réside with her ; 
and as I consider your liaison with those Scotch 
people as completely at an end, I hâve really been 
quite wretched as to what was to become of you. I 
can't tell you, therefore, how excessively relieved I 
was when Mr. Downe Wright yesterday asked my 
permission to address you. Of course I could not 
hesitate an instant ; so you will meet him at dinner 
as your accepted. By-the-bye, your hair is rather 
blown. I shall send Fanchon to dress it for you. 
You hâve really got very pretty hair; I wonder I 
never remarked it before. Oh ! and Mrs. Downe 
Wright is to wait upon mo to-morrow, I think ; and 



MAKBIA6E. 163 

ihen I belîeve we must retum the visit There is 
a sort of étiquette, you know, in ail thèse matters — 
that is the most unpleasant part of it; but when 
that is oTer you will hâve nothing to think of but 
ordering your things." 

For a few minutes Mary was too much confounded 
by her mother^s rapidity to reply. She had ezpected 
to be urged to accépt of Mr. Downe Wright ; but to 
be told that was actually done for her was more than 
she was prepared for. At length she found voice to 
say that Mr. Downe Wright was almost a stranger 
to her, and she must therefore be excused from re- 
ceiving his addresses at présent 

" How excessively childish ! " exclaimed Lady 
Juliana angnly. " I won't hear of anything so per- 
fectly foolisL You know (or, at any rate, I do) ail 
that is necessary to know. I know that he is a man 
of family and fortune, heir to a title, uncommonly 
handsome, and remarkably sensible and well-inf ormed. 
I can't conçoive what more you would wish to know !" 

" I would wish to know something of his character, 
his principles, his habits, temper, talents — ^in short, ail 
those things on which my happiness would dépend." 

"Character and principles! — one would suppose 
you were talking of your footman! Mr. Downe 
Wright's character is perfectly good. I never heard 
anything against it As to what you call his prin- 
ciples, I must profess my ignorance. I really can't 
tell whether he is a Methodist ; but I know he is a 
gentleman — has a large fortune — is very good-looking 



164 KABBUGX. 

— and is not at ail dissîpated, I belieya In éhort^ 
70U are most excessively fortnnate in meeting with 
such a maa" 

"Bat I bave not the slightest partiality for him," 
saîd Mary, colouring. " It cannot be ezpected that I 
should, when I hâve not been balf a dozen times in 
bis Company. I must be allowed some time before I 
can consent even to consider " 

^*I don't mean that you are to marry to-morrow. 
It may probably be six weeks or two months before 
eveiytbing can be arranged." 

Mary saw she must speak boldly. 

" But I must be allowed much longer time before 
I can consider myself as suffîciently acquainted with 
Mr. Downe Wright to think of him at ail in that 
light And even then — he may be very amiable, and 
yet " — hesitating — " I may not be able to love him as 
I ought" 

" Love ! " exclaimed Lady Juliana, her eyes spark- 
ling with anger; "I désire I may never hear that 
Word again from any daughter of mine. I am deter- 
mined I shall hâve no disgraceful love-marriages in 
the family. No well-educated young woman ever 
thinks of such a thing now, and I won't hear a syl- 
lable on the subject" 

" I shall never marry anybody, I am sure, that you 
disapprove of," said Mary timidly. 

" No ; I shall take care of that I consider it the 
duty of parents to establish their children properly in 
the world, without any regard to their ideas on the 



I 

l 



MAERIAGK 165 

subject I think I must be rather a better judge of 
the matter than you can possibly be, and I shall 
therefore mako a point of your fonning what I con- 
sider a proper alliance. Your sister, I know, won't 
hesitate to sacrifice her own affections to please me. 
She was most excessively attached to Lord Lindore — 
everybody knew that; but she is convinced of the 
propriety of preferring the Duke of Altamont, and 
won't hesitate in sacrificing her own f eelings to mine. 
But indeed she has ever been ail that I could wish — 
80 perf ectly beautif ul, and, at the same time, so exces- 
siyely affectionate and obedient She approves entirely 
of your marriage with Mr. Downe Wright, as, indeed, 
ail your friends do. I don't include your friend Lady 
Emily in that number. I look upon her as a most 
improper companion for you ; and the sooner you are 
separated from her the better. So now good-bye for 
the présent You hâve only to behave as other 
young ladies do upon those occasions, which, by-the- 
bye, is generally to give as much trouble to their 
friends as they possibly caa" 

There are some people who, furious themselves at 
opposition, cannot understand the possibility of others 
being equally firm and decided in a gentle manner. 
Lady Juliana was one of those who always expect to 
carry their point by a raised voice and sparkling eyes ; 
and it was with diiOâculty Mary, with her timid air 
and gentle accents, could convince her that she was 
detennined to judge for herself in a matter in which 
her happiness was so deeply involved. When at 



1 



166 MAimiAGE. 

last brought to conipreliend it^ her Ladjship's indig- 
nation knew no bounds ; and Marj was accused in 
the same breath with having fonned some low con- 
nection in Scotland, and of seeking to supplant her 
sister hj aspiring to the Duke of Altamont And at 
length the conférence ended pretty much where it 
began — Lady Juliana resolved that her daughter 
should marry to please her, and her daughter equallj 
resolved not to be driven into an engagement from 
which her heart recoiled. 



j 



OHAPTER XIX. 

** Qa'on vante en lui la foi, Thonneur, la probité ; 
Qu'on prise sa candeur et sa civilité ; 
Qu'il soit doux, complaisant, officieux, sincère : 
On le vent, j'y souscris, et suis prêt à me taire." 

BoiLEAir. 

When Mary entered the drawing-room she found 
herself, without knowing how, by the aide of Mr. 
Downe Wright At dinner ît was the same ; and in 
short it seemed an understood thing that they were 
to be constantly together. 

There was something so gentle and unassuming in 
his manner that, almost provoked as she was by the 
folly of his proceedings, she found it impossible to 
resent it by her behaviour towards him ; and indeed, 
without being guaty of actual rudeness, of which she 
was incapable, it would not hâve been easy to hâve 
made him comprehend the nature of her sentiments. 
He appeared perfectly satisfied with the toleration he 
met with; and, compared to Adelaide's disdainful 
glances, and Lady Emily's biting sarcasms, Mary's 
gentleness and civility might well be mistaken for 
encouragement But even under the exhilarating in- 
fluence of hope and high spirits his conversation was 



168 MARBUGE. 

80 insîpid and commonplace, that'Mary fonnd it a 
relief to tum even to Dr. BedgîlL It was évident 
the Doctor was aware of what was going on, for he 
regarded her with that increased respect due to the 
future mistress of a splendid establishment / Between 
the courses he made some complimentary allusions to 
Highland mutton and red deer ; and he even carried 
his attentions so far as to whisper, at the very first 
mouthful, that les côtdlettes de saumon were superb, 
when he had never been known to commend anj- 
thing to another until he had fuUy discussed it 
himself. On the opposite side of the table sat 
Adelaide and the Duke of Altamont, the latter look- 
ing stiU more heavy and inanimate than ever. The 
opération of eating over, he seemed unable to keep 
himself awake, and every now and then yielded to a 
gentle slumber, f rom whicli, however, he was instantly 
recalled at the sound of Adelaide's voice, when he 
exclaimed, "Ah! charming — ^very charming, ah!" — 
Lady Emily looked from them as she hummed some 
part of Dryden's Ode — 

*' Aloft in awful state 
The godlike hero sate, etOi 
.The lovely Thais by his side, 
Look'd like a blooming Ëastem bride." 

Then, as his Grâce closed his eyes, and his head sank 

on his shoulder — 

*' With ravishM ears 
Th<; monarch h ears 
Assumes the god, 
AlFects to iiod " 



HABRIAGE. 169 

Lady Jnliana, who would hâve been highly incensed 
had she suspected the application of the words, was 
80 imconscious of it as to join occasionally in singing 
thôm, to Mary's great confusion and Adelaide's mani- 
f estdispleaZ. 

When they retumed to the drawîng-room, " Heavens ! 
Adelaide/' ezclaimed her cousin, in an affected manner, 
"what are you made of ) Semelé herself was but a 
mère cinder-wench to you ! How can you stand such 
a Jupiter — and not scorched ! not even singed, I pro- 
test 1" pretending to examine her ail over. "I vow I 
trembled at your temerity — your familiarity with the 
impérial nod was fearfuL I eyery instant expected 
to see you tumed into a live coaL" 

"I did bum," said Adélaïde, "with shame, to see 
the mistress of a house f orget what was due to her 
father's guests.'' 

" There's a slap on the cheek for me ! Mercy ! 
how it burns ! No, I did not f orget what was due 
to my f ather's guests ; on the contrary, I consider it 
due to them to save them, if I can, from the snares 
that I see set for them. I hâve told you that I abhor 
ail traps, whether for the poor simple mouse that 
cornes to steal its bit of cheese, or for the dull elderly 
gentleman who falls asleep with a star on his breasf 

" This is one of the many kind and polite allusions 
for which I am indebted to your Ladyship," said 
Adélaïde haughtily ; " but I trust the day will come 
when I shall be able to discharge what I owe you," 

And she quitted the room, foUowed by Lady 



170 XABBIAGE. 

Juliana^ who conld 011I7 make ont that Lady Emfly 
had been insolent^ and that Adelaide was offended. 
 pause f ollowed 

"I see 70U think I am in the wrong, Mary ; I can 
read that in the little reproachf al glance you gave me 
ju8t now. Well, perhaps I am; but I own it chafes 
my spirit to fidt and look on such a scène of iniquity. 
Yes^ iniquity I call it, for a woman to be in love with 
one man, and at the same time laying snares for 
anothei; Tou may think, perhaps, that Adelaide has 
no heart to love anything ; but she has a heart^ such 
as it is, though it is much too fine for eveiy-day use, 
and therefore it is kept locked up in a marble casket^ 
quite ont of reach of you or L But l'm mistaken if 
Frederick has not made himself master of it ! Not 
that I should blâme her for that, if she would be 
honestly and downrîghtly in love with him. But 
how despicable to see her, with her affections placed 
upon one man, at the same time lavishing ail her 
attentions on another — and that other, if he had been- 
plain John Altamont^ £sq., she would not hâve been 
commonly civil to ! And, àp-qpos of civility — ^I must 
tell you, if you mean to refuse your hero, you were 
too civil by half to him. I observed you at dinner, 
you sat perfectly straight^ and answered everything 
he said to you. -' 

'' What could I do V* asked Mary, in some surprisa 

"l'il tell you what I would hâve done, and hâve 

thought the most honourable mode of proceeding ; I 

should hâve tumed my back upon him, and hâve 



BfAKBIAGE. 171 

merely thrown hîm a monosyllable now and then over 
mj shoulder." 

" I could not be less than civil to him, and I am 
sure I was not more." 

" CiviKty is too much for a man one means to re- 
fuse. You'll never get rid of a stupid man by civility. 
Whenever I had any reason to apprehend a lover, I 
thought it my duty to tnrn short upon him and give 
him a snarl at the outset, which rid me of him at once. 
But I really begin to think I manage thèse matters 
better than anybody else — * Where I love, I profess 
it : where I hâte, in every circumstance I dare pro- 
claim it' " 

Mary tried to défend her sister, in the first place ; 
but though her charity would not allow her to censure, 
her conscience whispered there was much to condenm ; 
and she was reheved from what she felt a difficult 
task when the gentlemen began to drop in. 

In spite of ail her manœuvres Mr. Downe Wright 
contrived to be next her, and whenever she changed 
her seat^ she was sure of his f oUowing her. She had 
also the mortification of overhearing Lady Juliana tell 
the Duke that Mr. Downe Wright was the accepted 
lover of her youngest daughter, that he was a man of 
large fortune, and heir to his uncle. Lord Glenallan ! 

" Ah ! a nephew of my Lord Glenallan's ! Indeed 
— a pretty young man — ^like the family ! — ^Poor Lord 
Glenallan ! I knew him very welL He has had the 
palsy since then, poor man — ah !" 

The following day Mary was compelled to receive 



172 MABRIAGE. 

Mrs, Downe Wright's vîsit; but she wbs scarcely 
conscious of what passed, for Colonel Lennox arrived 
at the same time ; and it was equally évident that bis 
yisit was also intended for ber. Sbe felt tbat sbe 
ougbt to appear unconcemed in bis présence, and sbe 
tried to be so ; but still tbe painf ul idea would recur 
tbat be bad been solicited to love ber, and, unskilled 
in tbe arts of even innocent déception, sbe could only 
try to bide tbe agitation under tbe coldness of ber 
manner. 

" Corne, Mary," crîed Lady Emily, as if in answer 
to sometbing Colonel Lennoz bad addressed to ber in 
a low Yoice, " do you remember tbe promise I made 
Colonel Lennoz, and wbicb it rests witb you to 
perform?" 

"I never consider myself bound to perfonn tho 
promises of otbers," replied Mary gravely. 

" In some cases tbat may be a prudent resolution, 
but in tbe présent it is surely an unfriendly one," 
said Colonel Lennoz. 

^* A most inbuman one !" cried Lady Emily, '^since 
you and I, it seems, cannot commence our friendsbip 
witbout sometbing sentimental to set us agoing. It 
rests witb you, Mary, to be tbe founder of our friend- 
sbip; and if you manage tbe matter well, tbat îb, 
sing in your best maimer, we sball perbaps make it a 
triple alliance, and admit you as tbird". 

"As every man is said to be tbe artificer of bis 
owii fortune, so every one, I tbink, bad best be tbe 
artificer of tbeir own friendsbip," said Mary, trying 



\ 



KÂBBIA6E. 173 

to smile, as she pulled her embroidery f rame towards 
her, and began to work 

"Neither can be the worse of a good friend to 
help them on," observed Mrs. Downe Wright 

" But both may be materially injured by an injudi- 
cious one," said Colonel Lennoz ; *' and although, on 
this occasion, I am the greatest sufferer by it, I must 
acknowledge the truth of Miss Douglas's observation. 
Friendship and love, I believe, will always be found 
to thrive best when left to themselvea" 

"And so ends my novel, élégant^ and original 
plan for striking up a sudden friendship," cried Lady 
Emily. " Pray, Mr. Downe Wright, can you suggest 
anything better for the purpose than an old song ? " 

Mr. Downe Wright, who was not at ail given to 
suggesting, looked a little embarrassed. 

"Pull the bell, William, for the carnage," said his 
mother; "we must now be moving." And with a 
gênerai obeisance to the company, and a significant 
pressure of the hand to Mary, she withdrew her son 
from his dilemma. Although a shrewd, penetrating 
woman, she did not possess that tact and delicacy 
necessary to comprehend the finer feelings of a mind 
superior to her own ; and in Mary's averted looks and 
constrained manner she saw nothing but what she 
thought quite proper and natural in her situation 
" As for Lady Emily," she observed, " there would be 
news of her and that fine dashing-looking Colonel 
yet, and Miss Adelaide would perhaps corne down a 
pin before long." 



174 HABBIAaE. 

Soon after Colonel Lennox took his leave, in spite 
of Lady Emily's pressing invitation for him to spend 
the day there, and meet her brother, who had been 
absent for some days, but was now expected home. 
He promised to retom again soon, and departed. 

''How prodigioasly handsome Colonel Lennox 
looked to-day," said she, addressing Mary ; ^' and how 
perfectly unconscious, at least indiffèrent^ he seems 
about it It is quite refreshing to see a handsome 
man that is neither a fool nor a coxcomb/' 

^* Handsome! no, I don't think he is very hand- 
some," said Lady Juliana. " Sather dark, don't you 
think, my love?" toming to Âdelaide, who sat apart 
at a table writing, and had scarcely déigned to lift her 
head ail the tima 

" Who do you mean ? The man who has jost gone 
out) Is his name Lennox? Yes, he is rather hand- 
some." 

"I believe you are right; he certainly is good- 
looking, but in a peculiar style. I don't quite like the 
expression of his eye, and he wants that air distmgué^ 
which, indeed, belongs exclusively to persons of birtL" 

''He has perfectly the air of a man of fashion," 
said Adelaide, in a dedded tone, aa if ashamed to 
agrée with her mother. "Perhaps tm peu mUtiaire^ 
but nothing at ail professionaL" 

"Lennox! — it is a Scotch name," observed Lady 
Juliana contemptuously. 

" And, to eut the matter short," said Lady Emily, 
as she was quitting the room, "the man who has just 



MAHRIAGE. 176 

gone out Js Colonel Lennoz, and not tlie Duke of 
Altamont" 

Af ter a f ew more awkward, indefînite sort of vîsîts, 
in which Mary found it impossible to come to an 
explanation, she was relieved for the présent from the 
assiduities of her lover. Lady Juliana received a note 
from Mr& Downe Wright, apologising for what she 
termed her son's unf ortunate absence at such a critical 
time ; but he had received accounts of the alarming 
illness of his uncle Lord Glenallan, and had, in con- 
séquence, set off instantly for Scotland, where she was 
preparing to foUow; concluding with particular regards 
to Miss Mary — ^hope& of being soon able to résume 
their pleasant footing in the family, eta etc. 

"How excessively well arranged it will be that old 
man's dying at this time !" said her Ladyship, as she 
tossed the note to her daughter; "Lord Glenallan 
will Sound so much botter than Mr. Downe Wright. 
The name I hâve always considered as the only objec- 
tionable part You are really most prodigiously 
fortunata** 

Mary was now aware of the foUy of talking reason 
to her mother, and remained silent ; thankful for the 
présent peace this event would ensure her, and almost 
tempted to wish that Lord Glenallan's doom might 
not speedily be decided. 



CHAPTER XX. 

" It seems it is as proper to onr âge 
To cast beyond ourselves in our opinioni^ 
As it is common for the younger sort 
To lack discrétion." ffanUeL 

Lord Lindore and Colonel Lennox had been boyîsh 
acquaîntances, and a sort of sûperficial intîmacy was 
soon established between them, which served as the 
ostensible cause of his fréquent visits at Beech Park 
But to Mary, who was more alive to the différence of 
their characters and sentiments than any other member 
of the family, this appeared very improbable, and she 
could not help suspecting that love for the sister, 
rather than friendship for the brother, was the real 
motive by which he was actuated. In a half jesting 
maimer she itientioned her suspicions to Lady Emlly, 
who treated the idea with her usual ridicule. 

" I really could not hâve supposed you so extremely 
missy-ish, Mary," said she, *'as to imagine that because 
two people like each other's society, and talk and laugh 
together a little more than usual, that they must needs 
be in love 1 I believe Charles Lennox loves me much 
the same as he did eleven years ago, when I was a 



JCABBUGE. 177 

litiJe wretch that used to pull hîs haïr and spoil his 
watcL And as for me, you know that I consider 
myself quite as an old woman — at least as a married 
one ; and he is perf ectly au fa/à to my engagement 
with Edward. I hâve even shown him his picture 
and some of his letters." 

Mary looked incredulous. 

''You may think as you please, but I tell you it is 
sa In my situation I should scom to hâve Colonel 
Lennoz, or anybody else, in love with me. As to his 
liking to talk to me, pray who else can he talk to % 
Âdeïaide would sometimes condescend indeed ; but he 
won't be condescended to, that's clear, not even by a 
Duchess. With what mock humility he meets her 
airs I how I adore him for it ! Then you are such a 
pillar of ice I — so shy and unsociable when he is pré- 
sent ! — ^and, by-the-bye, if I did not despise récrimina- 
tion as the pis aUer of ail conscious Misses, I would 
say you are much more the object of his attention, at 
least, than I am. Several times I hâve caught him 
looking yeiy eamestly at you, when, by the laws of 
good breeding, his eyes ought to hâve been fixed 
exclusively upon me ; and " 

"Pshawl" interrupted Mary, colouring, "that is 
mère absence — ^nothing to the purpose — or perhaps," 
forcing a smile, "he may be tr^ng to love me !" 

Mary thought of her poor old friend, as she said 
this, with bittemess of heart It was long since she 
had seen her; and when she had last inquired for 
her, her son had said he did not think her well, with 

VOIb UN M. 



178 HASBIÀOI. 

a look Maiy oonld not misimdeistancL She had 
heard him make an appointment with Lord Lindore 
for the f ollowing day, and she took the opportanily 
of his certain absence to visit his mother. Mrs. 
Lennox, indeed, looked ill, and seemed more ihan 
usually depressed. She welcomed Mary with her 
usual tendemess, but even her présence seemed to 
f ail of inspiring her with gladness. 

Mary found she was totally unsuspicious of the 
cause of her estrangement^ and imputed it to a yery 
différent ona 

" You hâve been a great stranger, my dear ! " said 
she, as she affectionately embraced her ; " but at such 
a time I could not expect you to think of me.'' 

''Indeed," answered Mary, equaily unconscious of 
her meaning, " I hâve thought much and often, very 
of ten, upon you, and wished I could hâve corne to you ; 

but " she stopped, for she could not teU the 

truth, and would not utter a f alsehood. 

''I understand it ail," said Mrs. Lennox, with a 
digk "WeU— well— God's will be done!" Then 
trying to be more cheerful, " Had you come a Utile 
sooner, you would hâve met Charle& He is just gone 
out with Lord Lindora He was unwilling to leave 
me, as he always is, and when he does, I believe it is 
as much to please me as himsell Ah ! Mary, I once 
hoped that I might hâve lived to see you the happy 
wife of the best of sons. I may speak out now, since 
that is ail over. God has willed otherwise, and may 
you be rewarded in the choice you hâve made 1 " 



MARRUGB. 179 

Mary was struck with consternation to find that 
her supposed engagement with Mr. Downe Wright 
had spread even to Rose Hall ; and in the greatest 
confusion she attempted to deny it But after the 
acknowledgment she had just heard, she acquitted 
herself awkwardly; for she felt as if an open ex- 
planation would only serve to revive hopes that 
never could be realised, and subject Colonel Lennox 
and herself to future perplexities. Nothing but the 
whole truth would hâve suffîced to ondeceive Mrs. 
Lennox, for she had had the intelligence of Mary's 
engagement from Mrs. Downe Wright herself, who, 
for better security of what she already considered her 
son's property, had taken care to spread the report 
of his being the accepted lover before she left the 
country. Mary felt ail the unpleasantness of her 
situation. Âlthough detesting deceit and artifice of 
eyery kind, her confused and stammering déniais 
seemed rather to corroborate the f act ; but she felt 
that she could not déclare her resolution of never 
bestowing her hand upon Mr. Downe Wright without 
seeming at the same time to court the addresses of 
Colonel Lennox Then how painf ul — ^how unjust to 
herself, as well as cruel to him, to hâve it for an 
instant believed that she was the betrothed of one 
whose wif e she was resolved she never would be ! 

In short, poor Mary's mind was a complète chaos ; 
and for the first time in her life she found it im- 
possible to détermine which was the right course for 
her to pursue. Even in tho midst of her distress, 



180 UÀBItlAGE. 

however, she could not help smiling at the naïveté of 
the good old lad/s remarks. 

^^ He is a handsome young man, I hear/' saîd she, 
stîll in allusion to Mr. Downe Wright : '< has a fine 
fortune, and an easy temper. Ail thèse things help 
people's happîness, though they cannot make it ; and 
his choice of you, my dear Mary, shows that he has 
Bome sensa" 

"What a euloginml" said Mary, laughing and 
blushing. " Were he reàlly to me what you suppose, 
I must be highly flattered ; but I must again assure 
you it is not using Mr. Downe Wright well to talk of 
him as any thing to ma My mother, indeed " 

"Ah ! Mary, my dear, let me advise you to beware 
of being led, even by a mother, in such a matter as 
this. Qoà f orbid that I should ever recommend dis- 
obédience towards a parent's will; but I fear you 
hâve yielded too much to your& I said, indeed, 
when I heard it^ that I feared undue influence had 
been used ; for that I could not think William Downe 
Wright would ever hâve been the choice of your heart 
Surely parents hâve much to answer for who mislead 
their children in such an awful step as marriage !" 

This was the severest censure Mary had ever heard 
drop from Mrs. Lennox's lips; and she could not 
but marvel at the self-delusion that led her thus to 
condemn in another the very error she had com- 
mitted herself, but under such différent circumstances 
that she would not easily hâve admitted it to be the 
same. She sought for the happiness of her son, while 



KARBIAaE. 181 

Lady Juliana, she was convinced, wished only her 
own aggrandîsement 

" Yes, îndeed," said Mary, in answer to her friend's 
observation, ** parents ought^ if possible, to avoid even 
forming wishes for their children. Hearts are way- 
ward things, even the best of them." Then more 
seriously she added, " And, dear Mrs. Lennoz, do not 
either Uame my mother nor pity me ; for be assured, 
with my heart only will I give my hand ; or rather, I 
should say, with my hand only will I give my heart : 
And now good-bye," cried she, starting up and hurry- 
ing away, as she héard Colonel Lennoz's voice in the 
halL 

She met him on the stair, and wotdd hâve passed 
on with a slight remark, but he tumed with her, and 
finding she had dismissed the carriage, intending to 
walk home, he requested permission to attend her. 
Mary declined ; but snatching up his hat, and whist- 
ling his dogs, he set out with her in spite of her re- 
monstrances to the contrary. 

"If you persist in refusing my attendance,** said 
he, "you will inflict an incurable wound upon my 
vanity. I shall suspect you are ashamed of being 
seen in such company. To be sure, myself, with my 
shabby jacket and my spattered dogs, do form rather 
a ruffian-like escort ; and I should not hâve dared to 
hâve ofiFered my services to a fine lady ; but you are 
not a fine lady, I know;" and he gently drew her 
arm wîthin his as they began to ascend a hilL 

This was the first time Mary had found herself 



182 MABBIAGE. 

alone with Colonel Lennoz sînce that fat4il day wliîch 
seemed to hâve divided them for ever. Ât first she 
felt uneasj and embarrassed, bat there was so much 
good sénse and good f eeling in the tone of his conver- 
sation — ^it was 80 far removed either from pedantry or 
frîvolity, that ail disagreeable ideas soon gave way to 
the pleasure she had in conversing with one whose 
tum of mind seemed so similar to her own ; and it 
was not till she had parted from him at the gâte of 
Beech Park she had time to wonder how she coold 
possibly hâve walked two miles têterà-tête with a man 
wbom she had heard solicited to love her 1 

From that day Colonel Lennoz's visits insensibly 
increased in length and number; but Lady Emily 
seemed to approprîate them entirely to herself ; and 
certainly ail the flow of his conversation, the brilliancy 
of his wit, were directed to her ; but Mary could not 
but be conscious that his looks were much of tener 
riveted on herself, and if his attentions were not 
such as to attract gênerai observation, they were such 
as she could not f ail of perceiving and being uncon- 
sciously gratified by. 

" How I admire Charles Lennox*s manner to you, 
Mary," said her cousin, " after the awkward dilemma 
you were both in. It was no easy matter to know 
how to proceed ; a vulgar-minded man would either 
hâve oppressed you with his attentions, or insulted 
you by his neglect, while he steers so gracefully free 
from either extrême ; and I observe you are the only 
woman upon whom he designs to bestow les petUs soins. 




MABRIÀGE. 183 

How I despîse a man who is ever on the watch to 
pick up every silly Misses fan or glove that she thinks 
it pretty to drop ! No — ^the woman he loves, whether 
his mother or his wife, will always be distinguished 
by him, were she amongst queens and empresses, not 
by his silly vanity or vulgar fondness, but by his 
marked and gentlemanlike attentions towards her. 
In short, the best thing you can do is to make up 
your quarrel with him — take him for ail in ail — you 
won't meet with such another — certainly not amongst 
your Highland laîrds, by ail that I can leam; and, 
by-the-bye, I do suspect he is now, as you say, trying 
to love you; and let him — you will be very well 
repaid if he succeeds." 

Mary's heart swelled at the thoughts of submitting 
to such an indignity, especially as she was beginning 
to feel conscious that Colonel Lennoz was not quite 
the object of indifférence to her that he ought to be ; 
but her cousines remarks only served to render her 
more distant and reserved to him than ever. 



CHAPTER XXL 

** What dangers ought'st thon not to dread, 
Wlien Love, tliat's blind, is by blind Fortune led ?* 

COWLBT. 

At length the long-looked for day arrived. The 
Duke of Altamont's proposais were made in due f orm, 
and in due f orm accepted Lady Juliana seemed now 
touching the pinnacle of earthly joy ; for, next to being 
greatly married herself , her happiness centred in seeing 
her daughter at the head of a splendid establishment. 
Again visions of bliss hovered around her, and " Peers 
and Dukes and ail their sweeping train " swam before 
her eyes, as she anticipated the brilliant résulta to hei> 
self from so noble an alliance ; for self was still, as 
it had ever been, her ruling star, and her affection 
for her daughter was the mère resuit of vanity and 

ambition. 

The ensuing weeks were passed in ail the bustle 
of préparations necessarily attendant on the nuptiaLs 
of the great. Every morning brought from Town 
dresses, jewels, patterns, and packages of ail descrip- 
tions. Lady Juliana was in ecstasies, even though 
it was but happiness in the second person. Mary 



HABBIAGB. 186 

watched her sister's looks with the most painf ni soli- 
dtude ; for from her lips she knew she never would 
leam the sentiments of her heart But Adélaïde was 
aware she had a part to act, and she went through it 
with an ease and self-possession that seemed to defy 
ail scratîny. Once or twice, indeed, her deepening 
colour and darkening brow betrayed the f eelings of 
her heart^ as the Duke of Âltamont and Lord Lindore 
were brought into comparison ; and Mary shuddered 
to think that her sister was even now ashamed of the 
man whom she was so soon to vow to love, honour, 
and obey. She had vaînly tried to lead Adelaide to 
the subject Adelaide would listen to nothing which 
she had reason to suppose was addressed to herself ; 
but either with cool contempt took up a book, or left 
the room, or, with insolent affectation, would put her 
hands to her head, exclaiming, " Mes oreilles n*étoient 
pas faites pour les erUretiens sérieux,^' ' Ail Mary*s worst 
fears were confirmed a few days before that fized for 
the marriage. As she entered the music-room she 
was startled to find Lord Lindore and Adelaide alone. 
Unwilling to suppose that her présence would be con- 
sidered as an interruption, she seated herself at a 
little distance from them, and was sbon engrossed by 
her task. Adelaide, too, had the ah: of being deeply 
intent upon some trifling employment ; and Lord Lin- 
dore, as he sat opposite to her, with his heàd resting 
upon his hands, had the appearance of being engaged 
in reading. Ail were silent for some time; but as 
Mary happened to look up, she saw Lord Lindore's 



186 MARBIAGE. 

ejes fixed eamestly upon her sister, and with a Toice 
of repressed feeling ho repeated, " Ah / je le sens, ma 
Julie I sSl falloU renoncer à vous, U n'y auroU plus pour 
nwi d^autre s^our ni diantre saison:" and throwing 
down ihe book, he quîtted the room. Adélaïde, pale 
and agitated, rose as if to foUow him ; then, recoUect- 
ing herself, she ruslied from the apartment by an 
opposite door. Mary followed, vainly hoping that 
in this moment of excited feeling she might be in- 
duced to open her heart to the voice of affection ; but 
Adélaïde was a stranger to sympathy, and saw only 
the dégradation of conf essing the struggle she endured 
in choosing betivixt love and ambition. That her 
heart was Lord Lindore's she could not conceal from 
herself, though she would not confess it to another — 
and that other the tenderest of sisters, whose only 
wish was to serve her. Mary's tears and entreaties 
were therefore in vain, and at Adelaide's repeated 
désire she at length quitted her and retumed to the 
room she had left. 

She found Lady Emily there with a paper in her 
hand. " Lend me yom* ears, Mary," cried she, " while 
I read thèse lines to you. Don't be afraid, there are 
no secrets in them, or at least none that you or I will 
be a whit the wiser for, as they are truly in a most 
mystic strain. I found them lying upon this table, 
and they are in Frederick's handwriting, for I see he 
affects the soupirant at présent; and it seems there 
has been a sort of a sentimental farce acted between 
Adelaide and him. He prétends that, although dis- 



KABBIAâ& 187 

tractedly in love "with her, he is not so selfish as even 
to wish her to marry him in préférence to the Doke 
of Altamont; and Adélaïde, not to be outdone in 
heroics, has also made it ont that it is the height of 
virtue in her to espouse the Duke of Altamont, and 
sacrifice ail the tenderest affections of her heart to 
duty 1 Duty ! yes, the duty of being a Duchess, and 
of Hving in state and splendeur with the man she 
secretly despises, to the pleasure of renouncing both 
for the man she loves ; and so they hâve parted, and 
hère, I suppose, are lindore's lucubrations upon it, in- 
tended as a sov/omvr for Âdelaide, I présume. Now^ 
night visions befriend me 1 

■ •* The time retums when o'er my wilder'd mind, 
A thraldom came which did each sensé enshroud ; 
Not that I bowed in willing chain confined, 
But that a soften'd atmosphère of cloud 
Veiled every sensé — conceal'd th* impending doom. 
'Twas mystic night, and I seem'd borne along 
By pleasing dread — ^and in a doubtful gloom, 
Where fragrant inoense and the sound of song^ 
And ail fair things we dream of, floated by, 
Lulling my fancy like a cradled child, 
Till that the dear and guileless treachery, 
Made me the wretch I am — so lost, so wild — 
A mingled feeling, neither joy or grief, 
Dwelt in my heart — I knew not whence it came, 
And — ^but that woe is me I 'twas passing brie( 
Even at this honr I fain would feel the same I 
I track'd a path of flowers — but flowers among 
Were hissing serpents and drear birds of night, 
That shot across and scared with boding cries ; 
And yet deep interest lurked in that affright, 
Something endearing in those mysteriea^ 



188 IfABRIÂGE. 

Which bade me siill the desperate joy pursne, 

Heedless of what might corne — when from mine ejet 

The cloud should pass, or what might thon accrue. 

The doud has passed — the blissful power is flown, 

The flowers are wither'd — ^wither'd ail the scène. 

But ah ! the dear dolusions I hâve known 

Are présent still, with loved though altered mien i 

I tread the selfsame path in heart nnchanged ; 

But changed now is ail that path to me, 

For where 'mong flowers and fountains once I ranged 

Are barren rocks and savage scenery 1 *' 

Mary f elt it was in vain to attempt to win her 
sister's confidence, and she was too délicate to seek 
to wrest her secrets from her ; she theref ore took no 
notice of this effusion of love and disappointment^ 
which she concluded it to be. 

Adelaide appeared at dinner as usuaL Ail traces 
of agitation had vanished ; and her manner was as cool 
and collected as if ail had been peace and tranquillity at 
heart Lord Lindore's departure was slightly noticed. 
It was generally understood that he had been rejected 
by his cousin; and his absence at such a time was 
thoûght perfectly natural ; the Duke merely remark- 
ing, with a vacant simper, " So Lord Lindore is gone 
— Ah I poor Lord Lindora" 

Lady Juliana had, in a very early stage of the 
business, fixed in her own mind that she, as a matter 
of course, would be invited to accompany her daughter 
upon her marriage; indeed, she had always looked 
upon it as a sort of triple alliance, that was to unité 
her as indissolubly to the fortunes of the Duke of 
Altamont as though she had been his wedded wife. 



MAERIAGE. 189 

But the time drew near, and in spite of ail her hints 
and manœuvres no invitation had yet been extorted 
from Adelaide. The Duke had proposed to her to 
invite her sister, and even expressed something like 
a wish to that effect ; for though he felt no positive 
pleasure in Mary's society, he was yet conscious of a 
void in her absence. She was always in good humour 
— always gentle and polite — and, without being able 
to tell why, his Grâce always felt more at ease with 
her than with anybody els& But his selfish bride 
seemed to think that the joys of her élévation would 
be diminished if shared even by her own sister, and 
she coldly rejected the proposai Lady Juliana was 
next suggested — for the Duke had a sort of vague . 
understanding that his safety lay in a multituda 
With him, as with ail stupid people, company was 
society, words were conversation — ^and ail the grada- 
tions of intellect^ from Sir Isaac Newton down to Dr. 
Bedgill, were to him unknown. But although, as 
with most weak people, obstinacy was his forte^ he 
was hère agaîn compelled to yield to the will of his 
bride, as she also déclin ed the company of her mother 
for the présent The disappointment was somewhat 
softened to Lady Juliana by the sort of indeiînite 
hopes that were expressed by her daughter of seeing 
her in town when they were fairly established ; but 
until she had seen Âltamont House, and knew its 
accommodations, she could fix nothing; and Lady 
Juliana was fain to solace herself with this dim per- 
speetiye, instead of the brilliant reality her imagination 



j 
— À 



190 ICAfiRIAGE. 

had placed wîthîn her grasp. She felt^ too, withont 
comprehending, the imperf ectness of ail earthly f elicity. 
As she witnessed the magnifîcent préparations for her 
daughter's marriage, it recalled the bitter remembrance 
of her own — and many a sigh burst from her heart as 
she thought^ ** Such as Âdelaide is, I mîght hâve been, 
had I been blest with such a mother, and brought up 
to know what was for my good !" 

The die was cast Âmidst pomp and magnificence, 
elate with pride, and sparkling with jewels, Adelaide 
Douglas reversed the f ate of her mother ; and while 
her affections were bestowed on another, she vowed, 
in the face of heaven, to belong only to the Duke of 
Altamont 1 

"Good-bye, my dearest love !" saîd her mother, as 
she embraced her with transport, " and I shall be with 
you very soon ; and, above ail things, try to secure a 
good opera-box for the season. I assure you it is of 
the greatest conséquence." 

The Duchess impatiently hurried from the congratu- 
lations of herfamily, and throwing herself into the 
splendid équipage that awaited her was soon lost to 
their Tiew« 



CHAPTER XXn. 

** Eveiy white will hâve its black, 
And every sweet its sour : " 

As Lady Juliana experienced. Her daughter wbs 
Duchess of Altamont, but Grizzy Douglas had arrived 
in Bath ! The intelligence was communicated to Mary 
in a letter. It had no date, but was as f ollows :— 

" My DiAR Mary — You will See from the Date of 
this, that we are at last Ârrived hère, af ter a very 
long joumey, which, you of Course Know it is from 
this to our Part of the countiy ; at the same Time, it 
was uncommonly Pleasant, and we ail enjoyed it very 
Much, only poor Sir Sampson was so ill that we 
Ezpected him to Expire every minute, which would 
hâve made it Extremely unpleasant for dear Lady 
M*Laughlaa He is now, I am Happy to say, greatly 
Better, though still so Poorly that I am much Afraid 
you will see a very Considérable change upon him. I 
sincerely hope, my dear Mary, that you will make a 
proper Apology to Lady Juliana for my not going to 
Beech Park (where I know I ^ould be made most 
Welcome) directly — but I am Certain she will Agrée 
«with me that it would be Highly Improper in me to 



192 ICABBIAGE. 

leave Lady MO[iaugIilan when she la not at ail Sure 
how long Sir Sampsûn maj live ; and it wonld Appear 
very Odd if I was to be ont of the way at such a time 
as That But you may Assure her, with my Eind 
love, and indeed ail our Loves (as I am sure None of 
us can ever f orget the Pleasant time ahe spent with 
us at Glenf ern in my Ppor brother's lifetîme, bef ore 
you was Bom), that I will Tàke the veiy first Oppor- 
tunity of Spending some time at Beech Park bef ore 
leaving Bath, as we Ezpect the Waters will set Sir 
Sampson quite on his Feet again. It wiU be a happy 
Meeting, I am certain, with Lady Juliana and ail of 
us, as it is Eighteen years this spring since we hâve 
Met You may be sure I hâve a great Deal to tell 
you and Lady Juliana too, about ail Friends at Glen- 
fem, whom I left ail quite WelL Of course, the 
Report of Bella's and Betsy's marriages Must hâve 
reached Bath by this time, as it will be three Weeks 
to-day since we left our part of the country ; but in 
case it has not reached you, Lady M'Laughlan is of 
opinion that the Sooner you are made Âcquainted 
with it the Better, especially as there is no doubt of 
it Bella's marriage, which is in a manner fîxed by 
this time, I daresay, though of Course it will not take 
place for some time, is to Capt M^Nab of some Régi- 
ment, but l'm sure I Forget which, for there are so 
many Régiments, you know, it is Impossible to remem- 
ber them AU ; but he is quite a Hero, I know that^ as 
he has been in Several battles, and had Two of his 
front teeth Eoiocked out at one of them, and was 



mâbeiage. 193 

Much complîmented abont it; and he Says, he îs 
quite Certain of getting Great promotion — at any 
Eate a pension for it, so there is no Fear of hini. 

" Betsy bas, if Possible, been still More f ortunate 
than ber Sister, altbougb you know Bella was always 
reckoned tbe Beauty of the Family, tbougb some 
people certainly preferred Betsy's Looks too. Sbe 
bas made a Complète conquest of Major M*Tavisb, of 
tbe Militia^ wbo, Independent of bis rank, wbicb is 
certainly very Higb, bas also distinguisbed bimseK 
very Mucb, and sbowed tbe Greatest bravery oncje 
when there waa a Very serious Kot about Ae raising 
tbe Potatoes a penny a pecË, wben tbere was no 
Occasion for ît, in tbe town of Dunoon ; and it was 
very mucb talked of at tbe Time, as well as Being 
in ail tbe Newspapers. Tbis gives os ail tbe Greatest 
Pleasure, as I am certain it will also Do Lady Juliana 
and you, my dear Mary. At tbe same time, we Feel 
very mucb for poor Babby, and Beenie, and Becky, 
as tbey Naturally, and indeed ail of us, Expected 
tbey would, of Course, be married first; and it is 
certainly a great Trial for tbem to See tbeir younger 
sisters married before tbem. Ât tbe same Time, 
tbey are Wonderfully supported, and Bebave witb 
Âstonisbing firmness; and I Trust, my dear Mary,, 
you will do tbe Same, as I bave no Doubt you will 
Ail be married yet, as I am sure you Ricbly deserve 
it wben it Comes. I bope I will see you Very soon, 
as Lady M*Laugblan, I am certain, will Make you 
most Welcome to call. We are living in Most élégant 

VOL. II. o M. 



194 MÂRBUGE. 

Lodgîngs — ail the Fumiture is quite New, and per- 
fectly GooA I do not know the Name of the street 
yet, as Lady M*Laughlan, which is no wonder, is not 
fond of being Asked questions when she is Upon a 
JoTimey ; and, indeed, makes a Point of never Answer- 
ing any, which, I daresay, is the Best way. But^ of 
Course, anybody will Tell you where Sir Sampson 
Maclaughlan, Baronet, of Lochmarlie Gastle, Perth- 
shire, N. B., lives; and, if You are at any Loss, it 
has a Qreen door, and a most Elégant Balcony. I 
must now bid you adieu, my dear Mary, as I Am 
so soon to See yourself. Sir Sampson and 'Lady 
MQJaughlan unité with Me in Best compliments to the 
Family at Beech Park And, in kind love to Lady 
Juliana and you, I remain, My dear Mary, your most 
affectionate Aunt, Grizzel Douglas. 

"P./S — I hâve a long letter for you from Mrs. 
Douglas, which is in my Trunk, that is Coming by 
the Perth Carrier, and unless he is stopped by the 
Snow, I Expect he will be hère in ten days.** 

With the idea of Grizzy was associated in Mary's 
mind àll the dear familiar objects of her happiest 
days, and her eyes sparkled with delight at the 
thoughts of again beholding her. 

" Oh ! when may I go to Bath to dear Aunt 
Grizzy?" exclaimed she, as she finished the letter. 
Lady Juliana looked petriôed. Then recollecting that 
this was the first intimation her mother had received 
of such an event being even in contemplation, she 
made haste to exculpate her aunt at her own ezpense, 



MABBIA6E. 196 

by inf orming her of the trutL But nothing could be 
more impalatable than the truth; and poor Mary's 
short-lived joy was soon tumed into the bitterest 
sorrow at the reproaches that were showered upon 
her by the încensed Lady Juliana. But for her thèse 
people never would hâve thought of coming to Bath ; 
or if they did, she should hâve had no connection with 
them. She had been most excessively ill-used by Mr. 
Douglas's family, and had long since resolved to hâve 
no f urther intercourse with them — they were nothing 
to her, eta eta The whole concluding with a positive 
prohibition against Mary's taking any notice of heraunt. 

''From ail that has been said, Mary," said Lady 
Emily gravely, 'Hhere can be no doubt but that you 
are the origin of Lady Juliana's unfortunate connec- 
tion with the family of Douglas." 

" Undoubtedly," said her Ladyship. 

^'But for you, it appears that she would not hâve 
known-Hîertainly never would hâve acknowledged — 
that her husband had an aunt 1" 

"Certainly not," said Lady Juliana» warmly. 

"It is a most admirable plan," continued Lady 
Emily in the same manner, "and I shall certainly 
adopt it When I hâve children I am determined 
they shall be answerable for my making a foolish 
marrîage ; and it shall be their fault if my husband 
hàs a mother. En cUtendanty I am determined to 
patronise Edward's relations to the last degree; and 
therefore, unless Mary is permitted to visit her aunt 
as often as ahe pleases, I shall make a point of bring* 



196 MÂBBIAGS. 

ing the dear Aunt Grizzy hera Yes'* (puttîng her 
hand to the bell), " I shall order my carnage this in- 
stant, and set off. To-morrow, you know, we give a 
grand dinner in honour of Adelaide's marriage. Âunt 
Grizzy shall be queen of the feast" 

Lady Juliana was almost suffbcated with passion ; 
but she knew her nièce too well to doubt her putting 
her threat into exécution, and there was distraction 
in the idea of the vulgar obscure Grizzy Douglas beîng 
presented to a f ashionable party as her aunt Af ter a 
violent altercation, in which Mary took no part^ an 
ungracious permission was at length extorted, which 
Mary eagerly availed herself of ; and, charged with 
kind messages from Lady Emily, set off in quest of 
Aunt Grizzy and the green door. 

Af ter much trouble, and many unsuccessful attacks 
upon green doors and balconies, she was going to give 
up the search in despair, when her eye was attracted 
by the figure of Aunt Grizzy herself at full length, 
stationed at a window, in an old-fashioned riding- 
habit and spectacles. The carriage was stopped ; and 
in an instant Mary was in the arms of her aunt^ ail 
agitation, as Lochmarlie flashed on her fancy, at again 
hearing its native accents uttered by the voice familiar 
to her from inf ancy. Yet the truth must be owned, 
Mary's taste was somewhat startled, even while her 
heart warmed at the sight of the good old aunt As- 
sociation and affection still retaîned their magie influ- 
ence over her; but absence had dispelled the blest 
illusions of habituai intercourse; and for the first 






MABRIAGB. 197 

tîme she beheld her aunt freed from its softenîng 
spelL StîU her heart clung to her, as to one known 
and loved from infancy ; and she soon rose superîor 
to the weakness she felt was besetting her in the 
slight sensation of shame, as she contrasted her awk- 
ward manner and uncouth accent with the graceful 
refînement of those with whom she associated. 

Far différent were the sensations with which the 
good spinster regarded her nièce. She could not often 
enough déclare her admiration of the improvements 
that had taken plaça Mary was grown taller, and 
stouter, and fairer and fatter, and her back was as 
straight as an arrow, and her carriage would even sur- 
prise Miss M*Gowk herself. It was quite astonishing 
to see her, for she had always understood Scotland 
was the place for beauty, and that nobody ever came 
to anything in England. Even Sir Sampson and Lady 
Maclaughlan were f orgot as she stood riveted in ad- 
miration, and Mary was the first to recall her recollec- 
tion to them. Sir Sampson, indeed, might well hâve 
been overlooked by a more accurate observer ; for, as 
Grizzy observed, he was wom away to nothing, and 
the litUe that remained seemed as if it might hâve 
gone too without being any loss. He was now deaf, 
paralytic, and childish, and the only symptom of life 
he showed was an increased restlessness and peevish- 
ness. His lady sat by him, calmly pursuing her work, 
and, without relaxing from it, merely held up her face 
to sainte Mary as she approached her. 

" So l'm glad you are no worse than you was, dear 



198 MABBIAGE. 

chfld," surveyîng her from head to foot ; " that's more 
than W6 can say. You see thèse poor créatures," 
pointing to Sir Sampson and Âunt Grizzy. "They 
are much about it now. Well, we know what we are, 
but God knows what we shall be — ^humph !" 

Sir Sampson showed no signs of recognisîng her, 
but seemed pleased when Grizzy resumed her station 
beside him ; and began for the five hundredth time 
to tell him why he was not in Lochmarlie Castle, and 
why he was in Batk 

Mary now saw that there are situations in which a 
weak capacity has its uses, and that the most foolish 
chat may sometimes impart greater pleasure than ail 
the wisdom of the schools, even when proceeding from 
a benevolent heart 

Sir Sampson and Grizzy were so much upon a par 
in intellect, that they were reciprocally happy in each 
other. This the strong sensé of Lady Maclaughlan 
had long perceived, and was the principal reason of 
her selecting so weak a woman as her companion ; 
though, at the same time, in justice to her Ladyship's 
heart as well as head, she had that partiality for her 
friend for which no other reason can be assigned 
than that given by Montaigne : " Je Pâmais parceque 
c'étoit die, parceque c'étoit moi." 

Mary paîd a long visit to her aunt, and then took 
leave, promising to retum the following day to take 
Miss Grizzy to deliver a letter of introduction she 
had received, and which had not been left to the 
chance of the carrier and the snow. 



CHAPTEE XXm 

"Thifl sort of person is skilled to assume the appearance of 
ail virtaes and ail good qnalities ; bnt their farourîte mask is 
unirersal benevolence. And the reason why they prefer this 
disgnise to àll others, is, that it tends to conceal its opposite, 
whicli is, indeed, their true character — an universal selfishness." 
— Enoz's Essa/ys, 

ÂLTHOUGH, on her retum, Mary read her mother's 
displeasare in her looks, and was grieved at again 
having incurred ît, she yet felt ît a duty towards her 
father to persévère in her attentions to his aunt She 
wafi old, poor, and unknown, plain in her person, 
weak in her intellects, vulgar in her manners ; buir 
she was related to her by ties more binding than the 
laws of f ashion or the rules of taste. Even thèse dis- 
advantages, which, to a worldly mind, would hâve 
served as excuses for neglecting her, to Mary's gêner- 
ons nature were so many incentives to treat her with 
kindness and attention. Faithful to her promise, 
therefore, she repaired to Milsom Street, and found 
her aunt ail impatience for her arrivai, with the letter 
80 firmly grasped in both hands, that she seemed 
almost afraid to trust any one with a glance at the 
direction. 

^^This letter, Mary," said she, when they weri 



200 KARRUGE. 

seated in lihe carnage, " wiU be a great tiiing for me, 
and especîally for you. I got it from Mrs. Menzies, 
through Mrs. M'Drone, whose frîend, Mrs. Campbell's 
half-sister, Miss Grant, is a great frîend of Mrs. Fox's, 
and she says she is a most channing woman. Of 
course she is no f riend to the great Fox ; or you know 
it would hâve been very odd in me, with Sir Samp- 
son's principles, and my poor brother's principles, and 
ail our own principles, to hâve visited her. Bat she'a 
quite of a différent f amily of Fozes : she's a Fox of 
Peckwell, it seems — a most amiable woman, very rich, 
audprodlgiously charitable. I am sure Tha^bZ 
most fortunate in getting a letter to such a woman." 
And with this heartfelt ejaculation they found them- 
selves at Mrs. Fox's. 

Everything corresponded with the account of this 
lady's wealth and conséquence; the house was 
spacious and handsomely fumished, with its due pro- 
portion of livery servants; and they were ushered 
into a sitting-room which was filled with ail the 
wonders of nature and art, — Indian shells, inlaîd 
cabinets, ivory boxes, stuffed birds, old china^ 
Chinese mandarins, stood disclosed in ail their 
charms. The lady of this mansion was seated at a 
table covered with works of a différent description : 
it exhibited the varions arts of woman, in regular 
gradation, from the painted card-rack and gilded fire- 
screen, to the humble thread-paper and shirt-button. 
Mrs. Fox was a fine, f ashionable-looking woman, with 
a smooth skin, and still smoother address. She xe- 



BIAKRIAGS. 201 

ceived her vîsitors with that overstraîned complai- 
sance which, to Mary's nicer tact^ at once discovered 
that ail was hollow ; but poor Miss Grizzy was scarcely 
seated before she was already transfixed with admira- 
tion at Mrs. Fox's politeness, and felt as if her whole 
lif e would be too short to repay such kindness. Com- 
pliments over — the weather, etc., discussed, Mr& Fox 
began: 

" You must be surprised, ladies, to see me in the 
midst of such a litter, but you find me busy arranging 
the Works of some poor protégées of mine. A most 
unfortunate family 1 — I hâve given them what little 
instruction I could in thèse little f emale works ; and 
you see," putting a gaudy work-basket into Grizzy's 
hands, "it is astonishing what progress they hâve 
made. My friends hâve been most libéral in their 
purchases of thèse trifles, but I own I am a wretched 
beggar. They are in bad hands when they are in 
mine, poor soûls! The fact is, I can give, but I 
cannot beg. I tell them they really must find some- 
body else to dispose of their little labours — somebody 
who has more of what I call the gift of beggîng than 
I am blest with." 

Tears of admiration stood în Grizz/s eye; her 
her hand was in her pocket. She looked to Mary, 
but Mary's hands and eyes betrayed no corresponding 
émotions ; she felt only disgust at the meanness and 
indelicacy of the mistress of such a mansion levying 
contributions from the stranger within her door. 

Mf& Fox proceeded : " That most benevolent 



20S ICABBIAOK 

woman Miss Gd! was hère this moming, and bought 
no less than seven of thèse sweet little pincushions. I 
would f ain hâve dissuaded her from taking so many 
— ^it really seemed snch a sizretch of virtue ; but she 
saîd, 'My dear Mr& Foz, how can one possîbly spend 
their money better than in doing a good action, and 
at the same time enriching thernselves % '" 

Grizzy's purse was in her hand. ** I déclare that's 
yery trua I never thought of that bef ore ; and Tm 
certain Lady Madaughlan will say the very same; 
and Tm sure she will be delighted — ^l've no doubt of 
that — ^to take a pincoshion ; and each of my sisters 
Fm certain, will take one, though we hâve ail plenly 
of pincushions ; and 111 take one to myself , though I 
hâve three, Fm sure, that Fve never used yet" 

''My dear Miss Douglas, you really are, I could 
almost say, too good. Two and two's four, and one's 
five — five half-cro wns I My poor protégées / You will 
really be the making of their fortune ! " 

Grizzy, with trembling hands, and a face flushed 
with conscious virtue, drew forth the money from her 
little hoard 

But Mra Fox did not quit her prey so easily. **li 
any of your friends are in want of shirt-buttons, Miss 
Douglas, I would fain recommend those to them. 
They are made by a poor woman in whom I take 
some interest) and are far superior to any that are to 
be had from the shopa They are made from the very 
best materials. Indeed, I take care of that^ as" (in a 
modest whisper) '' I fumish her with the materials my* 



KABRIAGE. 203 

self; but the generality of those jou get to purchase 
are made from old materials. IVe ascertaîned that^ 
and it's a fact jou may rely upon." 

Poor Grizzy's haïr stood on end, to hear of such 
depravity in a sphère where she had never even sus- 
pected it; but, for the honour of her country, she 
flattered herself such practices were there unknown ; 
and she wsa entering upon a warm vindication of the 
integrity of Scotch shirt-buttons, when Mrs. Fox coolly 
obserred — 

"Indeed, our friend Miss Grant was so conscious 
of the great superiority of thèse buttons over any 
others, that she bespoke thirty-siz dozen of them to 
take to Scotland with her. In f act^ they are the real 
good old-f ashioned shirt-buttons, such as I hâve heard 
my mother talk of ; and for ail that^ I make a point 
of my poor woman selling them a peimy a dozen below 
the shop price ; so that in taking twelve dozen, which 
is the common quantity, there is a shilling saved at 
once." 

Grizzy f elt as if she would be the saving of the 
family by the purchase of thèse incomparable shirt- 
buttons, and, putting down her five shillings, became 
the happy possessor of twelve dozen of them. 

Ereah expressions of gratitude and admiration en- 
sued, till Grizzy's brain began to whiil even more 
rapidly than usual, at the thought of the deeds she 
had dona 

*^ And now," said Mrs. Fox, observing her eyes in 
a fine frenzy rolUng from her lapf ul of pincushions 



204 KARRIAGE. 

and shirt butions, to a mandarin nearly as large as 
life, " perhaps, my dear Miss Douglas, you will do me 
the favour to take a look of my little collection." 

*Favourl" thought Grizzy; "what politeness!" 
and she protested there was nothing she liked so 
much as to look at everything, and that it would be 
the greatest favour to show her anything. The man- 
darin was made to shake his head — a musical snuff- 
box played its part — ^and a variety of other expensive 
toys were also exfaibited. 

Marjr's disgust increased. "And this woman," 
thought she, "professes to be charitable amidst ail 
this display of selfish extravagance. Probably the 
priée of one of thèse costly baubles would hâve pro- 
vided for the whole of thèse poor people for whom 
she affects so much compassion, without subjecting her 
to the meanness of tuming her house into a beggar's 
repository." And she walked away to the other end 
of the room to examine some fine scriptural paintings. 

" Hère," said Mrs. Fox to her victim, as she un- 
locked a superb cabinet, " is what I value more than 
my whole collection put together. It is my spéci- 
mens of Scotch pebbles ; and I owe them solely to the 
generosity and good-will oï my Scotch friands. I 
assure you that is a proud reflection to me. I am a 
perfect enthusiast in Scotch pebbles, and, I may say, 
in Scotch people. In fact, I am an enthusiast in 
whatever I am interested in ; and at présent, I must 
own, my heart is set upon making a complète collée- 
tion of Scotch pebbles." 



1CABBU6B. 205 

t 

Grizzy began to feel a sort of tîghtiiess at her 
throat^ at which was affixed a very fine pebble brooch 
pertaîning to Nicky, but lent to Grizzy, to enable her 
to znake a more distînguished figure in the gay world. 

"Oh!" thought she, "what a pity this brooch is 
Nicky's, and not mine ; I would hâve given it to this 
charming Mr& Fox. Indeed, I don't see how I can 
be off giving it to her, even although it is Nicky^s." 

"And, by-the-bye," exclaimed Mrs. Fox, as if 
suddenly stmck with the sight of the brooch, " that 
seems a very fine stone of yours. I wonder I did 
not observe it sooner; but^ indeed, pebbles are thrown 
away in dress. May I beg a nearer view of it V 

Grizz/s brain was now ail on fira On the one 
hand there was the glory of presenting the brooch 
to such a polite, charitable, charming woman ; on the 
other, there was the f ear of Nicky's indignation. But 
then it was quite thrown away upon Nicky — she had 
no cabinet, and Mrs. Fox had declared thiat pebbles 
were quite lost anywhere but in cabinets, and it was 
a thousand pitiés that Nick/s brooch should be lost 
Ail thèse thoughts Grizzy revolved with her usual 
cleamess, as she unclasped the brooch, and gave it 
into the hand of the collecter. 

" Bless me, my dear Miss Douglas, this is really a 
very fine stone ! I had no conception of it when I 
saw it sticking in your throat It looks quite a dif- 
férent thing in the hand ; it is a species I am really 
not acquainted witL I bave nothing at ail similar to 
it in my poor collection. Pray, can you tell me the 



206 MABBIAOK 

name of it, and where it is f ound, that I may at least 
endeavonr to procure a pièce of it" 

" l'm sure I wish to goodness my sister Nicky was 
hère — Fm certain she would — though, to be sure, she 
has a great regard for it; for it was found on the 
Glenf em estate the very day my grandfather won his 
plea agaînst Drimsydie ; and we always called it the 
lucky stone from that" 

"Thelucky stone! what a deKghtful name ! Ishall 
never think myself in luck till I can procure a pièce 
of your lucky stone. I protesta I could almost go to 
Scotland on puiposa Oh, you dear lucky stone!'' 
kissing it with raptura 

"Tm sure — ^l'm almost certain — indeed, Fm con- 
vinced, if my sister Nicky was hère, she would be 

delighted to offer It would certainly be doing 

my sister Nicky the greatest faveur, since you think 
it would be seen to so much greater adyantage in 
your cabinet, which, for my own part, I hâve not the 
least doubt of, as certainly my sister Nicky very 
seldom wears it for fear of losing it, and it would be 
a thousand pitiés if it was lost; and, to be sure, it 
will be much safer locked up — nobody can dispute 
that — so I am sure it's by far the best thing my sister 
Nicky can do— for certainly a pebble brooch is quite 
lost as a brooch.** 

"My dear Miss Douglas! I am really quite 
ashamed 1 This is a perf ect robbery, I protest ! But 
I must insist upon your accepting some little token of 
my regard for Miss Nicky in retum.*' Groing to her 



HABBUOIS. 207 

eharily-table, and retuming with a set of painted 
thread-papers, " I must request the favour of you to 
présent lihese to Miss Nicky, with my kind regards, 
and assure her I shall consider her lucky stone as the 
most precions jewel in my possession." 

The whole of this scène had been perf ormed with 
such rapidity that poor Grizzy was not prepared for 
the sadden métamorphose of Nicky's pebble brooch 
into a set of painted thread-papers, and some vague 
alarms began to float through her brain. 

Mary now advanced, quite unconscious of what 
had been going on ; and having whispered her aunt to 
take leave, they departed. They retumed in silenca 
Grizzy was so occnpied in examining her pincushions 
and counting her buttons, that she never looked up 
till the carriage stopped in Milsom Street 

Mary aocompanied her in. Grizzy was ail impa- 
tience to display her treasures ; and as she hastily un- 
f olded them, began to relate her achieyements. Lady 
Maclaughlan heard her in silence, and a deep groan 
was ail that she uttered; but Grizzy was too well 
accustomed to be groaned at^ to be at ail appalled, and 
went on, "But ail that's nothing to the shirt-buttons, 
made of Mrs. Fox's own linen, and only fiye shillings 
the twelve dozen; and considering what tricks are 
played with shirt-buttons now — ^I assure you people 
require to be on their guard with shirt-buttons now.'' 

"Pray, my dear, did you ever read the * Vicar of 
Wakefieldr" 

" The * Vicar of Wakefield V I— I think always I 



208 HARRIAGE. 

must have read it: — at any rate, l'm certam Tyo 
heard of it" 

'' Moses and his green spectacles was as one of the 
acts of Solomon compared to you and your shiri- 
buttona. Pray, which of you is it that wears sbirts î" 

" I déclare that's very true — ^I wonder I did not 
think of that sooner — to be sure, none of us wear 
sbirts since my poor brotber died." 

"And wbat's become of ber broocb?" turning to 
Mary, wbo for the first time observed the departure 
of Nicky's crown jeweL 

" Oh, as to the brooch," cried Grizzy, " l'm certain 
you'll ail think that well bestowed, and certainly it 
bas been the saving of it" Upon which she corn- 
menced a most entangled narrative, from which the 
truth was at length extracted. 

"Well," said Lady Maclaugblan, "there are two 
things God grant I may never become, — an amaimr in 
charity, and a collecter of curiosities. No Christian 
can be either — ^both are pickpockets. I wouldn't 
keep Company with my own mother were she either 
one or other — humph !" 

Mary was grieved at the loss of the l^rooch ; but 
Grizzy seemed more than ever satisfied with the ex- 
change, as Sir Sampson had taken a fancy for the 
thread-papers, and it would amuse him for the rest of 
the day to be told every two minutes what they were 
intended for. Mary therefore left ber quite happy, 
and retumed to Beech Park 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

'' He either fears his fate too muoh* 
Or his déserts are small, 
Who dares not put it to the touch, 
To gain or lose it alL" 

Marquis of Momtroêe. 

Time roUed on, but no event occurred in 6rizzy*s lifc 
worthy of beîng commemorated. Lady Juliana began 
to recover from the shock of her arrivai, and at length 
was even prevailed upon to pay her a visit, and actu- 
ally spent five minutes in the same room with her. 
Ail her Ladyship's plans seemed now on the point of 
being accomplished. Mr. Downe Wright was now 
Lord Glenallan, with an additional fifteen thousand 
per annum, and by wiser heads than hers would hâve 
been thought an unexceptionable match for any young 
woman. Leaying his mother to settle his affairs in 
Scotland, to which she was much more au faii than 
fiimaelf, he hastened to Beech Park to claim Mary's 
piomised hand. 

Bat neither wealth nor grandeur possessed any 
sway over Mary's well-regulated mind, and she tumed 
from that species of happiness which she f elt would ba 
insufficîent to satisfy the best affections of her heart 

VOL. IL P M 




210 MABBIÀOE. 

"No/' thought ahe, "it is not in splendonr and dis- 
tinction that I shall find happiness ; it is in the culti- 
vation of the domestic virtues — the peaceful joys of a 
happy home and a loved companion, that my feUcity 
must consist Without thèse I f eel that I should still 
be poor, were I mistress of millions;" and she took 
the first opportimity of acquainting Lord Glenallan 
with the nature of her sentiments. 

He receiyed the communication with painful sur- 
prise j but as he was one of those who do not easily 
divest themselves of an idea that has once taken pos- 
session of their brain, he seemed resolved to persévère 
in his quiet, though pointed attention& 

Lady Juliana's anger at the discovery of her 
daughter's refusai it is needless to describe — ^it may 
easily be imagîned ; and poor Mary was almost heart- 
broken by the violence and duration of it. Some- 
tîmes she wavered in her ideas as to whether she was 
doing right in thus resisting her mother's wishes ; and 
in the utmost distress she mentioned her scruples to 
Lady Emily, 

"As to Lady Juliana's wishes," said her cousin, 
"they are mère soap-bubbles; but as to your own views 
— ^why, really you are somewhat of a riddle to me, I 
rather think, were I such a quiet^ civil, well-disposed 
person as you, I could hâve married Lord Olenallan 
well enougL He is handsome, good-natured, and 
rich ; and though 'he is but a Lord, and nothing but 
a Lord,' still there is a dash and bustle in twenty 
ihousand a year that takes off from the ennui of i^ 



à. 



MABRIAGE. 211 

dull companion. With five hundred a year, I grant 
you, he would be execrabla" 

"Then I shall never marry a man with twenty 
thousand a year whom I would not hâve with five 
hundred." 

"In short, you are to marry for love — ^that's the 
old story, which, with ail your wisdom, you wise, 
well-educated girls always end in.- Where shall I find 
a hero upon five hundred a year for you î Of course 
he must be virtuous, noble, dignified, handsome, 
brave, witty. What would you think of Charles 
Lènnox 1 " 

Mary coloured. " Âf ter what passed, I would not 
marry Colonel Lennox; no" — affecting to smile — 
"not if he were to ask me, which is certainly the 
most unlikely of aU things.» 

"Ah! true, I had forgot that scrape. No, that 
won't do ; it certainly would be most pitif ul in you, 
after what passed. Well, I don*t know what*s to be 
done with you. There's nothing for it but that you 
should take Lord Glenallan, with ail his imperfections 
on his head ; and, after ail, I really see nothing that 
he wants but a little more brain, and as youll hâve 
the managing of him you can easily supply that 
defidency." 

"Indeed," answered Mary, "I find I hâve quite 
little enough for myself , and I hâve no genius what- 
ever for managing. I shall therefore never marry, 
unless I marry a man on whose judgment I could rely 
for advice and assistance, and for whom I could feel 



212 MABBIAOB. 

a certain déférence ihat I consider due from a wife te 
her husband." 

" I see what you would be at^" said Lady Emily ; 
" you mean to model yourself upon the behaviour of 
Mrs. Tooley, who has such a déférence for the judg- 
ment of her better half, that she consults him even 
about the tying of her shoes, and wonld not présume 
to give her child a few grains of magnesia without 
his full and unqualified approbation. Now I flatter 
myself my husband and I shall haye a more équitable 
division ; for, though man is a reasonable being, he 
shall know and own that woman is so too — sometimes. 
AU things that men ought to know better I shall 
yield; whatever may belong to either sex, I either 
seize upon as my prérogative, or scrupulousiy divide ; 
for which reason I should like the profession of my 
husband to be something in which I could not pos- 
sibly interfera How difficult must it be for a woman 
in the lower ranks of life to avoid teaching her hus- 
band how to sew, if he is a tailor ; or how to bake, if 
he is a baker, etc. 

" Nature seems to hâve provided for this tendency 
of both sexes, by making your sensible men— that is, 
men who think themselves sensible, and wish every- 
body else to think the same — ^incline to f oolish women. 
I can detect one of thèse sensible husbands at a glance, 
by the pomp and formaUty yirible in every word. 
look, or action — men, in short, whose 'visages do 
cream and mantle like a standing pond;' who are 
peifect Joves in their own houses — who speak their 



KABBIAGE. 213 

will by a nod, and lay down the law by the motion of 
their eyebrow — and wbo attach prodigions ideas of 
dîgnity to frightening their children, and being wor- 
shipped by their wives, till you see one of thèse wise- 
acres looking as if he thought himself and his obse- 
quions helpmate were exact personifîcations of Adam 
and Eve — *he for God only, she for God in him.' 
Now I am much afraid, Mary, with ail your sanctity, 
you are in some danger of becoming one of thèse 
idolatresses." 

" I hope not," replied Mary, laughing ; " but if I 
should, that seems scarcely so bad as the sect of Inde- 
pendents in the marriage state ; for example, there is 
Mrs. Boston, who by ail strangers is taken for a 
widow, such emphasis does she lay upon the personal 
pronoun — with her, 'tis always, / do this, or / do 
that^ without the slightest référence to her husband ; 
and she talks of my house, my gardens, my carnage, my 
chUdren, as if there were no copartaery in the case." 

"Ah, she is very odious," cried Lady Emily ; "she 
is both master and mistress, and more if possible — 
she makes her husband look like her footman; but 
she is a fool, as every woman must needs be who 
thinks she can raise herself by lowering her husband. 
Then there is the sect pf the Wranglers, whose 
marriage is only one continued dispute. But, in 
short, I see it is resenred for me to set a perf ect ex- 
ample to my sex in the mamed state. But l'm more 
reasonable than you, I suspect, for I don't insist upon 
having a bright genius for my mate." 



214 KABBIAGE. 

" I conf ess I should like that my husband's genius 
was at least as bright as my own,'' said Mary, " and I 
can't think there is anythîng unreasonable in that; 
or rather, I should say, were I a genius myseK, I 
could botter dispense with a certain portion of intel- 
lect in my husband ; as it haa been generally remarked 
that those who are largely endowed themselves can 
easier dispense with talents in their companions than 
others of more moderato endowments can do; but 
virtue and talents pn the one side, virtue and tender- 
ness on the other, I look upon as the principal in- 
grédients in a happy union." 

" Well, I intend to be excessively happy ; and jet, 
I don't think Edward will ever find the longitude. 
And, as for my tendemess — humph ! — as Lady 
Maclaughlan says; but as for you — I rather think 
you're in some danger of tuming into an Aunt Grizzy, 
with a long waist and large pockets, peppermint 
drops and powdered curls ; but, whatever you do, for 
heaven's sake let us hâve no more human sacrifices^ 
if you do, I shall certainly appear at your wedding in 
sackclotL" And this was ail of comfort or adidce 
that her Ladyship could bestow. 

As Lady Emily was not a person who concealed 
either her own secrets or those of others. Colonel 
Lennoz was not long of hearing from her what had 
paased, and of being made thoroughly acquaînted with 
Mary's sentiments on love and marriaga "Such a 
heart must be worth winning/' thought he ; but he 
sighed to think that he had less chance for the prize 



MABBIAGE. 215 

than another. Independent of his narrow fortune, 
which, he was aware, would be ao insuperable bar to 
obtaining Lady Juliana's consent, Mary's coldness and 
reserve towards him seemed to increase rather than 
diminisL Or if she sometimes gave way to the 
natural frankness and gaiety of her disposition before 
him, a word or look expressive of admiration on his 
part instantly recalled to her those painfol ideas which 
had been for a moment f orgot, and seemed to throw 
him at a greater distance than ever. 

Colonel Lennox was too noble-minded himself to 
suppose for an instant that Mary actually f elt dislike 
towards him because at the commencement of their 
acquaintance he had not done justice to her merits ; 
but he was also aware that» until he had explained to 
her the nature of his sentiments, she must naturally 
regard his attentions with suspicion, and consider 
them rather as acts of duty towards his mother than 
as the spontaneous expression of his own attachment 
He therefore, in the most simple and candid manner, 
laid open to her the secret of his heart, and iu ail the 
éloquence of real passion, poured forth those feelings 
of love and admiration with which she had uncon- 
fldously inspired him. 

For a moment Mary's distrust was overcome by 
the ardour of his address, and the open manly manner 
in which he had avowed the rise and progress of his 
attachment; and she yielded herseK up to the de- 
lightful conviction of loving aûd being beloved. 

But soon that gave way to the mortifying reilection 



216 IfARRIAGE. ; 

■ 

that rushed over her mînd. " He has trîed to love 
me!" thought she; "but it is in obédience to his ' 

mother's wisb, and he thinks he has succeeded. No, 
no ; I cannot be the dupe of his delusion — I will not 
give myself to one who has been solicited to love me !" 
And agaîn wounded delicacy and woman's pride re- 
sumed their empire over her, and she rejected the idea 
ofénH^receiving Colonel Lennox as a lover. He heard 
her détermination with the deepest anguish, and used 
every argument and entreaty to soften her resolution ; 
but Mary had wrought herself up to a pitch of heroism 
— she had rejected the man she loved — the only man 
she ever amld love : that done, to persist in the sacri- 
fice seemed easy; and they parted with increased 
attachment in their hearts, even though those hearts 
seemed severed for ever. 

Soon after he set off to join his régiment; and it 
was only in saying farewell that Mary f elt how deeply 
her happiness was involved in the f ate of the man she 
had for ever renounced. To no one did she impart 
what had passed ; and Lady Emily was too duU her- 
self, for some days after the departure of her friend, 
to take any notice of Mary's déjection. 



^ 



OHAPTER XXV. 

*• Who taught the parrot to cry, bail t 
What taught the chattering pie his taie ? 
Hanger ; that sharpener of the wits, 
Which gires e*en fools some thinking fits." 

Dbummond's Persiua» 

MabYm found herself bereft of both her lovers nearly 
at the sanie time. Lord Glenallan, after formally 
renewing his suit, at length took a final leave, and 
retomed to Scotland. Lady Juliana's indignation 
could only be equalled by Dr. Redgill's upon the 
occasion. He had planned a snug retreat for himself 
during the game season at Glenallan Castle ; where, 
from the good-nature and easy temper of both master 
and mistress, he had no doubt but that he should in 
time corne to nde the roast, and be lord paramount 
over kitchen and larder. His disappointment was 
therefore great at finding ail the solid joys of red deer 
and moor-game, kippered salmon and mutton hams, 
"vanish like the baseless fabric of a vision," leaving 
not a wreck behind. 

"Kefused Lord Glenallan!" exclaimed he to Lady 
Emily, upon first hearing of it " The thing's incred- 
ible — absolutely impos&ible — I won't believe it !" 



218 MARRI AGE. 

"That's right^ Doctor; who îs it that says 'And 
still believe the story false that (mght not to be true V 
I admire your candour, and wish I could imitate 
it" 

" Then your Ladyship really believes it Ton my 
soûl, I — I — ^it's really a very vexations affair. I feel 
for Lady Juliana, poor woman! No wonder sWs 
hysterical — ^five and twenty thousand a year refused ! 
What is it she would hâve î The finest deer park in 
Scotland ! Every sort of game upon the estate ! A 
salmon fishing at the very door ! — I should just like 
to know what is the meaning of it î" 

"Cannot you guess, Doctor î" asked Lady Einily. 

" Guess ! No, 'pon my soûl ! I defy any man to 
guess what could tempt a woman to refuse five and 
twenty thousand a year ; unless, indeed, she has some- 
thing higher in view, and even then she should be 
pretty sure of her mark But I suppose, because Miss 
Adelaide has got a Duke, she thinks she must hâve 
one too. I suppose that's the story ; but I can tell 
her Dukes are not so plenty ; and she's by no means 
80 fine a woman as her sister, and her market's spoilt^ 
or Fm much mistaken. What man in his sensés 
would ever ask a woman who had been such an idiot 
as to refuse five and twenty thousand a yearî" 

"I see, Doctor, you are quite a novice in the 
tender passion. Cannot you make allowance for a 
young lady's not being in love î" 

"In whatf demanded the Doctor. 

" In love," repeated Lady Emily. 



MAEBIAGE. 219 

"Love ! Bàh — nonsense — no mortal in their sensés 
ever thînks of such stuff now." 

"Then you think love and madness are one and 
tlie same thing, it seems V*' 

" I think the man or woman who could let their 
love stand in the way of five and twenty thousand a 
year is the next thing to being mad," said the Doctor 
waxmly; «and in aJcase-lls^ no différence.» 

" But you'U allow there are some sorts of love that 
may be indulged without casting any shade upon the 
nnderstanding ?" 

"I really can't tell what your Ladyship means," 
said the Doctor impatiently. 

"I mean, for example, the love one may feel 
towards a turtle, such as we had lately." 

"That's quite a différent thing," interrupted the 
Doctor. 

"Pardon me, but whatever the conséquence may 
be, the effects in both cases were very similar, as ex- 
emplified in yourself. Pray, what différence did it 
make to your friends, who were deprived of your 
Society, whether you spent your time in walking with 
* even step, and musing gait,' before your Dulcinea's 
window or the turtle's cistemi — whether you were 
engrossed in composing a sonnet to your mistress's 
eyebrow, or in contriving a new method of heighten- 
ing the enjoyments of calipask ? — whether you expa- 
tiated with greater rapture on the charms of a white 
skin or green fat? — whether you were most devoted 
to a languishing or a lively beauty ? — ^whether " 



220 HASRIA6E. 

" Ton my honour, Lady Emily, I really — ^I — ^I — 
can't conçoive what it is you mean. There's a time 
for everything; and l'm sure nobody but yourseK 
would ever hâve thought of bringing in a turde to a 
conversation upon marriage." 

*' On the contrary, Doctor, I thought it had been 
upon love ; and I was endeavouring to convince yon 
that even the wisest of men may be susceptible of 
certain tender émotions towards a beloved object" 

" Youll never convince me that any but a fool can 
be in love," cried the Doctor, his visage assnming a 
darker purple as the argument advanced. 

"Then you must rank Lord Glenallan, with his 
five and twenty thousand a year, amongst the number, 
for he is desperately in love, I assure you." 

" As to that, Lord Glenallan, or any man with his 
fortune, may be whatever he chooses. He has a right 
to be in lova He can afford to be in lova" 

"I hâve heard much of the torments of love," said 
Lady Emily ; " but I never heard it rated as a luxury 
bef ora I hope there is no chance of your being made 
Premier, otherwise I f ear we should hâve a tax upon 
love-marriages immediately." 

"It would be greatly for the advantage of the 
nation, as well as the comfort of individuals, if there ^ 
was," retumed the Doctor. " Many a pleasant fellow 
has been lost to society by what you call a love-mar- 
riaga I speak from expérience. I was obliged to drop 
the oldest friend I had upon his making one of your 
love-marriages." 



MARIIIAGB. 22Î 

"What! you were afraid of the effects of evil 
example î " asked Lady Emily. 

"No — ^it was not for that; but he asked me to 
take a family dimier with him one day, and I, with- 
out knowing anything of the character of the woman 
he had marrîed, was weak enough to go. I found a 
very sohso tablecloth and a shoulder of mutton, which 
ended oui acquaîntanca I never entered bis door 
after it . In fact, no man's happiness is proof agaînst 
dirty tabledoths and bad dinners ; and you may take 
my Word for it, Lady Emily, thèse are the invariable 
accompaniments of your love-mamages." 

"Pshaw! that is only amongst the bourgeois^" said 
Lady Emily affectedly ; " that is not the sort of ménage 
I mean to bave. Hère is to be the style of my 
domestic establishment;'' and she repeated Shenstone's 
beautif ul pastoral — 

*'My banks they are famished with bées/' etc.» 

till she came to— 

** I haye fonnd out a gift for my fair, 
I haye found where the wood-pigeons breed." 

**There's some sensé in that," cried the Doctor, 
who had been listening with great weariness. " You 
may hâve a good pigeon-pie, or un savU de pigeons au 
scmg, which is still bettèr when well dressed." 

" Shocking 1" exclaimed Lady Emily ; " to mention 
pigeon-pies in the same breath with nightingales and 
roses !" 

*' 111 tell you what, Lady Emily, it's just thèse sort 



222 MABRIAGIS. 

of nonsensical descriptions that do ail the mischief 
amongst you young ladie& It's thèse confounded 
poets that tam ail your heads, and make you think 
you hâve nothing to do after you are mamed but sit 
besîde f ountaîns and grottoes, and divert yourself with 
birds and flowers, instead of lookîng after your servants, 
and payîng your butcher's bills ; and, after ail, what 
is the substance of that trash you hâve just been read- 
ing, but to say that the man was a substantîal farmer 
and grazier, and had bées ; though I never heard of 
any man in his sensés going to sleep amongst hîs bee- 
hives before. Ton my soûl! if I had my will I 
would bum every Une of poetry that ever was written. 
A good recipe for a pudding is worth ail that your 
Shenstones and the whole set of them ever wrote; 
and there's more good sensé and useful information 
in this book " — rapping his knuckles against a volume 
he held in his hand — *^ than in ail your poets, ancient 
and moderti." 

Lady Emily took it out of his hand and opened it. 

"And some very poetical description, too, Doctor; 
although you affect to despise it so much. Hère is 
an eulogium on the partridge. I doubt much if St 
Preux ever made a finer on his adorable Julie ;'' and 
she read as follows : — 

" La Perdrix tient le premier rang après la Bécasse, 
dans la cathégorie des gibiers à plumes. C'est, lors- 
qu'elle est rouge, l'un des plus honorables et des 
meilleurs rôtis qui puissent être étalés sur une table 
gourmande. Sa forme appétissante, sa taille élégante 



MARRIAGK 223 

et svelte, quoiqu' arrondie, son embonpoint modéré, 
ses jambes d'écarlate; enfin, son fumet divin et ses 
qualités restaurantes, tout concourt à la faire rechercher 
des vrais amateurs. D'autres gibiers sont plus rares, 
plus chers, mieux accueillis par la vanité, le préjuge, 
et la mode; la Perdrix rouge, belle de sa propre 
beauté, dont les qualités sont indépendantes de la 
fantaisie, qui réunit en sa personne tout ce qui peut 
charmer les yeux, délecter le palais, stimuler Tappétit, 
et ranimer les forces, plaira dans tous les temps, et 
concourra à llionneur de tous les festins, sous quelque 
forme qu'elle y paroissa"^ 

The Doctor sighed: ^^That's nothing to what he 
says of the woodcock:" and with trembling hands 
he tumed over the leaves, till he found the place. 
** Hère it is," said he, " page 88, chap. xvi Just be 
80 good as read that^ Lady Emily, and say whether it 
is not inf amous that Monsieur Grillade has never even 
attempted to make it" 

With an air of melancholy enthufiiasm she read- 
**Dans les pays où les Bécasses sont communes, on 
obtient, de leurs carcasses pilées dans un mortier, une 
purée sur laquelle on dresse diverses entrées, telles 
que de petites côtelettes de mouton, eta Cette purée 
est Tune des plus délicieuses choses qui puisse être 
introduite dans le palais d'un gourmand, et l'on peut 
assurer que quiconque n'en a point mangé n'a point 
connu les joies du paradis terrestre. Une purée de 
Bécasse, bien faite, est le ne plus uUrâ des jouissances 

^ "Manuel des Amphitryons." 



224 KABBIÀOI. 

homaines. H faut mourir après l'ayoir goûtée, ear 
toutes les autres alors ne paroitront plus qu'insi- 
pide&" 

'^And thèse bécasseSj thèse woodcocks, perfectlj 
swarm on the Glenallan estate in the season," eried 
the Doctor; "and to think that such a man should 
hâve been refused But Miss Mary will repent this 
the longest day she lives. I had a cook in mj eje 
for them, too— one who is quite up to the making of 
this purée* Ton my soûl ! she deserves to liye upon 
sheep's head and haggîs for the rest of her life ; and 
if I was Lady Juliana I would try the effect of bread 
and water.'' 

" She certainly does not aspire to such joys as are 
hère portrayed in this your book of life," said Lady 
Emily; "for I suspect she could endure existence 
even upon roast mutton with the man she loves.'' 

"That's nothing to the purpose, unless the man 
she loves, as you call it, loves to live upon roast 
mutton too. Take my word for it^ unless she gives 
her husband good dinners he'll not care twopence for 
her in a week's time. I look upon bad dinners to be 
the source of much of the misery we hear of in the 
married life. Women are much mistaken if they 
think it's by dressing themselves they are to please 
their husbands." 

"Pardon me, Doctor, we must be the best judges 
there, and I hâve the authority of ail âges and sages 
in my faveur : the beauty and the charms of women 
hâve been the favourite thème, time immémorial; 




MARRIAGK 225 

now no one ever heard of a f air one beîng celebrated 
for her skill in cookery." 

" There I beg leave to differ from you," saîd the 
Doctor, with an air of exultation, again referring to 
his texirbooh ; " hère is the great Madame Pompadour, 
celebrated for a single dish : ' Les tendrons d'agneau 
au soleil et à la Pompadour, sont sortis de l'imagina- 
tion de cette dame célèbre, pour entrer dans la bouche 
d'un roi" 

"But it was Love that inspired her — it was Love 
tfaat kindled the fire in her imaginatioa Li short^ 
you must acknowledge that 

•* Love rules the court, the camp, the grove.* 

" m acknowledge no such thing," cried the Doctor, 
with indignation. "Love rule the camp, indeed ! A 
very likely story! Don't I know that ail our first 
gênerais carry off the best cooks — that there's no 
such living anywhere as in camp — that their aides-de- 
camp are quite ruined by it — that in time of war they 
live at the rate of twenty thousand a year, and when 
they come home they can't get a dinner they can eat % 
Ab for the court, I don't prétend to know much about 
it ; but I suspect there's more cooks than Cupids to 
be seen about it. And for the grèves, I shall only 
say I never heard of any of your fêtes champêtre, or 
fiicnics, where ail the pleasure didn't seem to consist 
in the eating and drinking." 

"Ah, Doctor, I perçoive you hâve taken ail your 
ideas on that subject from Werter, who certainly was 

VOL. IL Q M 



226 MABRIAGE. 

a sort of a sentimental gourmand, he seems to hâve 
enjoyed so much drînking his coffee under the shade 
of the lime-trees, and going to the bitchen to make 
his own pease-soup; and then he breaks ont into 
such raptures at the idea of the illustrions loyers 
of Pénélope killing and dressing their own méat! 
Butchers and cooks in one ! only conceiye them with^ 
their great knives and blue aprons, or their spits and 
white nightcaps! Poor Pénélope! no wonder she 
preferred spinning to marrying one of thèse créatures! 
Faugh ! I must hâve an ounce of civet to sweeten 
my imagination." And she flew off, leaving the 
Doctor to con over the " Manuel des Amphitryons," 
and sigh at the mention of joys, sweet, yet moumful, 
to his soûl. 



OHAPTEE XXVt 

** The ample proposition that hope makm ' 

In ail designs began on earth below, 

Fails in the promised largeness." 

Shakesfeaiul 

» 
Therb is no saying whether the Doctor's fffstem 

might not hâve been resorted to had not Lady 

Juliana's wrath been for the présent suspended by 

an invitation to Âltamont House. True, nothing 

could be colder than the terms in which it was 

couched; but to that her Ladyship was insensible, 

and would hâve been equally indiffèrent had she 

known that, such as it was, she owed it more to the 

obstinacy of her son-in-law than the affection of her 

daughter. The Duke of Altamont was one of those 

who attach great ideas of dignity to always carrying 

their point; and though he might sometimes be 

obliged to suspend his plans, he never had been 

known to relinquish them. Had he settled in his 

own mind to tie his neckcloth in a particular way, 

not ail the éloquence of Cicero or the tears of 0*Neil 

would hâve induced him to alter it; and Adélaïde, 

the haughty, self-willed Adelaide, soon found that^ of 

ail yokeS| the most insupportable is the yoke of an 



228 HABBIAGE. 

obstinate fooL Id the thousand triflîng occurrences 
of domestic life (for his Grâce was interested in ail 
the minutiaB of his establishment), where good sensé 
and good humour on either side would hâve graoef ully 
yielded to the other, there was a perpétuai contest 
for dominion, which invariably ended in Adelaide's 
defeat. The Duke, indeed, never disputed, or rear 
soned, or ^ven replied ; but the thing was donc ; till, 
at the end of six weeks, the Duchess of Altamont 
most heartily hated and despised the man she had 
so lately vowed to love and obey. On the présent 
occasion his Grâce certainly appeared in the most 
amiable light in wishing to hâve Lady Juliana invited 
to his house ; but in f act it proceeded entirely from 
his besetting sin, obstinacy. He had proposed her 
accompanying her daughter at the time of her mar- 
riage, and been overruled; but with ail the per- 
tinacity of a little mind he had kept fast hold of 
the idea, merely because it was his own, and he was 
now determined to hâve it put in ezecutioa In a 
postscript to the letter, and in the same cordial style, 
the Duchess said something of a hope, that if her 
mother did come to town, Mary should accompany 
her; but this her Ladyship, to Mary's great relief, 
declared should not be, although she certainly was 
very much at a loss how to dispose of her. Mary 
timidly expressed her wish to be permitted to retum 
to Lochmarlie, and mentioned that her uncle and 
aunt had repeatedly ofiPered to come to Bath for her, 
if she might be allowed to accompany them home; 



IfABRIAGE. 229 

but to this hev mother also gave a decîded négative, 
adding that she never should see Lochmarlie again, 
if she could help it In short, she mast remain where 
she was till something could be fixed as to her future 
destination. '^ It was most excessively tiresome to be 
clogged with a great unmarried daughter,'' her Lady- 
ship observed, as she sprang into the carnage with a 
train of dogs, and drove off to dear delightful Londoa 

But, alas! the insecurity of even the best-laid 
schemes of human foresight! Lady Juliana was in 
the midst of arrangements for endless pleasures, 
when she received accounts of the death of her 
now almost forgotten husband! He had died from 
the graduai effects of the climate, and that was ail 
that remained to be told of the unfortunate Henry 
Douglas! If his heartless wife shed some natural 
tears, she wiped them soon ; but the wounds of dis- 
appointment and vanity were not so speedily effaced, 
as 0he contrasted the brilliant court^ress with the 
unbecoming widoVs cap. Oh, she so detested black 
thihgs — it was so hateful to wear mouming — she 
never could feel happy or comfortable in black ! and, 
at such a time, how particularly unfortunate ! Poor 
Douglas! she was very sorry! Ând so ended the 
holiest and most indissoluble of human ties ! 

The Duchess did not think it incumbent upon her 
to be affected by the death of a person she had never 
seen ; but she put on mouming ; put oflF her présenta- 
tion at Court for a week, and stayed away one night 
from the opéra. 



230 MÀRRIÂ.GE. 

On Mary's warm and unpolluted heart the tîdings 
of her father's death produced a very différent effect 
Though she had never known, in their fullest extent^ 
those feelings of filial affection, whose source begins 
with our being, and over which memory loves to linger, 
as at the hallowed fount of the purest of earthly joys, 
she had yet been taught to cherish a fond remem- 
brance of him to whom she owed her being. She had 
been brought up in the land of his birth — ^his image 
was associated in her mind with many of the scènes 
most dear to her-his name and his memory were 
familiar to those amongst whom she dwelt, and thus 
her feelings of natural affection had been preserved in 
ail their genuine warmth and tendemess. Many a 
letter, and many a little token of her love, she had, 
from her earliest years, been accustomed to send him ; 
and she had ever fondly cherished the hope of her 
father's retum, and that she would yet know the 
happiness of being blest in a parent's lova But how 
ail thèse hopos were extinguished ; and, while she 
wept over them in bittemess of heart, she yet bowed 
with pious résignation to the decree of heaven. 



OHAPTER XXVa 

" Shall we grieve their hoYerîng shadei^ 
Which wait the révolution in our hearts ? 
Shall^we disdain their silent, soft address ; 
Their posthumous advice and pions prayer !" 

YOUNO. 

FoB some months ail was peacef ul sedusion in Mar/s 
life, and the only varieties she knew were occasional 
vis/te to Annt gWs. and now and «len spending 
some days with Mrs. Lennox. She saw with sorrow 
the declining health of her vénérable frîend, whose 
wasted form and délicate features had now assumed 
an almost ethereal aspect Yet she never complained, 
and it was only from her languor and weakness that 
Mary guessed she sufPered When urged to hâve re- 
course to médical advice she only smiled and shook 
her head; yet, ever gentle and complying to the 
"wishes of others, she was at length prevailed upon to 
receive the visits of a médical attendant, and her own 
feelings were but too faithfuUy confirmed by his 
opinion. Being an old friend of the family, he took 
npon himself to communicate the intelligence to her 
son, then abroad with his régiment ; and in the mean- 



232 MABBIAGE. 

time Mary took up her résidence at Bose Hall, and 
devoted herself unceasingly to the beloved friend she 
f elt she was so soon to lose. 

"Ah ! Mary," she would sometimes say, "God for- 
give me! but my heart is not yet weaned from worldly 
wishea. Even now, When I feel ail the vanity of 
human happiness, I think how it would hâve soothed 
my last moments could I hâve but seen you my son's 
before I lef t the world ! Yet, alas I our time hère is 
80 short that it matters little whether it be spent in 
joy or grief, provided it be spent in innocence and 
virtue. Mine has been a long lif e compared to many ; 
but when I look back upon it, what a span it seems ! 
And it is not the remembrance of its brightest days 
that are now a solace to my heart Dearest Mary, 
if you live long, you will live to think of the sad 
hours you hâve given me, as the fairest, perhaps, 
of many a happy day that I trust Heaven has 
yet in store for you. Yes ! God has made some 
whose powers are chiefly ordained to comfort the 
afflicted, and in f ulfilling His will you must sui-ely be 
blest." 

Mary listened to the half-breathed wishes of her 
dear old friend with painful feelings of regret and 
self-reproach. 

" Charles Lennox loved me," thought she, " truly, 
tenderly loved me ; and had I but repaid his noble 
frankness — ^had I sufFered him to read my heart when 
he laid his open before me, I might now hâve glad- 
dened the last days of the mother he adores. I might 




KARBtÀGB. 233 

have proudly avowed that affection I musi now for 
ever hide." 

But at the end of some weeks Mrs. Lennoz was 
no longer susceptible of émotions either of joy or 
sorrow. She gradually sank into a state of almost 
total însensibilîty, from which not eren the arrivai of 
her son .had power to rouse h^. His anguish was 
extrême at finding his mother in a condition so per- 
fectly hopeless ; and every other idea seemed, for the 
présent, absorbed in his anxiety for her. As Mary 
witnessed his watchful cares and tender solicitude, 
she could abnost have envied the unconscious object 
of such devoted attachment 

A f ew days after his arrivai his leave of absence 
was abruptly recalled, and he was summoned to repaîr 
to headquarters with ail possible expédition. The 
army was on the move, and a battle was expected to 
be fought. At such a time hésitation or delay, under 
any circumstances, would have been inévitable dis- 
grâce; and, dreadful as was the alternative, Colonel 
Lennoz waverèd not an instant in his resolution. 
With a look of fixed agony, but without uttering a 
syllable, he put the letter into Mary's hand as she sat 
by his mother's bedside, and then left the room to 
order préparations to be made for his instant de- 
partûr& On his retum Mary witnessed the painf ul 
oonflict of his feelings in his extrême agitation as he 
approached his mother, to look for the last time on 
those f eatures, already moulded into more than mortal 
beauty. A bright ray of the setting sun streamed 



234 MASBIAOB. 

full apon tiiat face, now reposing in the awfai bnt 
hallowed calm which is sometîmes difiPiised around the 
bed of deatL The sacred stUlness was only broken 
by the evening song of the blackbird and the distant 
lowing of the cattle — sounds which had often brought 
pleasure to that heart, now insensible to ail hmnan 
émotion. Ail nature shone f orth in gaiety and splen- 
door, but the eye and the ear were alike closed against 
ail earthly objects. Yet who can tell the brightness 
of those visions with which the parting soûl may be 
yisited 1 Sounds and sights, alike unheard, unknown 
to mortal sensé, may then hold divine communion 
with the soaring spirit, and inspire it with bliss incon- 
cdvable, ineffable ! 

Colonel Lennox gazed upon the countenance of his 
mother. Again and again he pressed her inanimate 
hands to his lips, and bedewed them with his tears, as 
about to tear himself from her for ever. At that 
moment she opened her eyes, and regarded him with 
a look of intelligence, which spoke at once to his heart 
He f elt that he was seen and known. ' Her look was 
long and f ondly fixed upon his face ; then tumed to 
Mary with an expression so deep and eamest that 
both felt the instantaneous appeal The veil seemed 
to drop from their hearts ; one glance sufficed to tell 
that both were f ondly, truly loved; and as Colonel 
Lennox received Mary's almost f ainting f orm in his 
arms, he knelt by his mother, and implored her bless- 
ing on her children. A smile of angelic brightness 
beamed upon her face as she extended her hand 




HASBIAGK 235 



; towards them, and her lîps moved as in prayer, though 

I nô Sound escaped them. One long and lingering look 

' was given to those so dear even in deatk She then 

raîsed her eyes to heaven, and the spirit sought its 

native sldes ! 



OHAPTER XXVm 

" Cette liaison n'est ni passion ni amitié pure : elle fidt une 
classe à part." — La Bruyère. 

It was long before Mary could believe in the reality 
of what had passed. It appeared to her as a beautîful 
yet awful dream. Could it be that she had plighted 
her f aîth by the bed of death ; that the last look of 
her departed friend had haJlowed the vow now regîs- 
tered in heaven; that Charles Lennox had claîmed 
her as his own, even in the agony of tearing himself 
from ail he loved ; and that she had only felt how 
dear she was to him at the very moment when she 
had parted from him, perhaps for everî But Maçy 
strove to banish thèse overwhelming thoughts from 
her mind, as she devoted herself to the performance 
of the last duties to her departed friend. Thèse paid, 
she again retumed to Beech Park 

Lady Emily had been a daily visîtor at Rose 
Hall during Mr& Lennox's illness, and had taken a 
lively interest in the situation of the family; but, 
notwithstanding, it was some time before Mary could 
so far subdue her feelings as to speak with composure 
of what had passed. She felt, too, how impossible 




KABRIAGIL 237 

it was hy words to convey to her any idea of that 
excitement of mînd, where a whole life of ordinary 
f eeling seems concentrated in one sudden but ineffable 
émotion. AU that had passed migbt be imagined, 
but could not be told ; and she shrank from the task 
of portraying those deep and sacred feeHngs which 
language never could impart to the breast of another. 

Yet she felt it was using her cousin unHndly to 
keep her in ignorance of what she was certain would 
give her pleasure to hear ; and, summoning her reso- 
lution, she at length disclosed to her ail that had 
taken plaça Her own embarrassment was too great 
to allow her to remark Lady Emily's changing colour, 
as she listened to her communication; and after it 
was ended she remained silent for some minutes, 
evidently struggling with her émotions. 

At length she exclaimed indignantly — "And so 
it seems Colonel Lennox and you hâve ail this time 
been playing the dying lover and the cruel mistress 
to each other*? How I detest such duplicity! and 
duplicity with me ! My heart was ever open to you, 
to him, to the whole world ; while yours — nay, your 
very faces — ^were masked to me ! " 

Mary was too much confounded by her cousin's 
reproaches to be able to reply to them for some time ; 
and when she did attempt to vindicate herseK, she 
found it was in vain. Lady Emily refused to listen 
to her ; and in haughty displeasure quitted the room, 
leaving poor Mary overwhelmed with sorrow and 
amazement 



238 MABBIAGS. 

There was a simplicîty of heart^ a smgleness ol 
idea in herself, that prevented her from ever attach- 
ing suspicion to others. Bat a sort of vague, unde- 
fined appréhension fioated through her brain as she 
revolved the extraordinary behaviour of her cousin. 
Yet it was that sort of feeling to which she could not 
give either a local habitation or a name; and she 
continued for some time in that most bewildering 
state of trying, yet not daring to think. Some time 
elapsed, and Mary's confusion of ideas was increasing 
rather than dimijiishing, when Lady Emily slowly 
entered the room, and stood some moments before 
her without speaking. 

Ât length, making an effort, she abruptly said — 
" Pray, Mary, tell me what you think of me î " 

Mary looked at her with surprise. ''I think of 
you, my dear cousin, as I hâve always done." 

" That is no answer to my question. What do 
you think of my behaviour just now î " 

"I think," said Mary gently, "that you hâve 
misunderstood me; that, open and candid yourself, 
almost to a fault^ you readily resent the remotest 
appearance of duplicity in others. But you are too 
gênerons not to do me justice " 

"Ah, Mary! how Kttle do I appear in my own 
eyes at this moment; and how little, with ail my 
boasting, hâve I known my own heart! No! It 
was not because I am open and candid that I resented 
your engagement with Colonel Lennox ; it was becausa 
I was — ^because — cannot you guess î " 



HARRIAGE. 239 

Mary^s colour rose, as she cast down her eyeaj and 
exclaîmed with agitation, " No — no, indeed ! " 

Lady Emily threw her arms around her : — " Dear 
Mary, you are perhaps the only person upon earth I 
would make such a confession to — ^it was because I, 
who had plighted my f aith to another — I, who piqued 
myself upon my openness and fidelity — I — ^how it 
chokes me to utter it ! I was beginning to love him 
myself! — only beginning, observe, for it is aiready 
over — I needed but to be aware of my danger to 
overcome it Colonel Lennox is now no more to me 
than your lover, and Edward is again ail that he ever 
was to me; but I — what am I? — faithless and self- 
deceived ! " and a few tears dropped from her eyes. 

Mary, too much affected to speak, could only press 
her in silence to her heart 

" Thèse are tears of shame, of pénitence, though I 
must own they look very like those of regret and 
mortification. What a mercy it is that * the chemist's 
magie art' cannot *crystalise thèse sacred treasures,*" 
said she with a smile, as she shook a tear^rop from 
her hand ; " they are gems I am really not at ail fond 
of appearing in." 

" And yet you never appeared to greater advan- 
tage," said Mary, as she regarded her with admiration. 

"Ah ! so you say ; but there is, perhaps, a little 
womanish feeling lurking there. And now you 
doubtless expect — no, you don*t, but another would — 
that I should begin a sentimental description of the 
rîse and progress of this ill-fated attachment^ as I 



240 MABBIAGK 

suppose it would be styled in the langnage of 
romance ; but in truth I can tell you nothing at ail 
about it" 

"Perhaps Colonel Lennox," said Mary, blushin^ 
and hesitating to name her suspicion. 

"No, no — Colonel Lennox was not to blâme. 
There was no false play on either side ; he is as much 
above the meanness of coquetry, as — I must say it — 
as I am. His thoughts were ail along taken up with 
you, even while be talked, and laughed, and quar- 
relled with ma While I, so strong in the belief that 
worlds could not shake my allegiance to Edward, 
oould hâve challenged ail mankind to win my love ; 
and this wicked, wayward, f aithless heart kept silent 
till you spoke, and then it uttered such a fearful 
Sound ! And yet I don't think it was love neither — 
' l'on n'aime bien qu'une seule fois ; c'est la première ;' 
— ^it was rather a sort of an idle, childish, engrossîng 
sentiment, that migJd hâve grown to something 
stronger; but 'tîs past now. I bave shown you ail 
the weakness of my heart — despise me if you wilL" 

" Dearest Lady Emily, had I the same skill to show 
the sentiments of mine, you would there see what I 
cannot express — how I admire this noble candeur, 
this gênerons self-abasement '* 

" Oh, as to meanly hiding my f aults, that is what 
I scom to da I may be ignorant of them myself, 
and in ignorance I may cherish them ; but, once con- 
vinced of them, I give them to the winds, and ail who 
choose may pick them up. Violent and unjust^ and 




MAEMAGE. 241 

seK-deceîved, I hâve been, and may be agaîn; but 
deceîtful I never was, and ne ver will ba" 

** My dear cousin, what might you not be îf you 
chose!" ' 

" Ah ! I know what you mean, and I begin to think 
you are in the right; by-and-bye, I believe, I shall 
corne to be of your way of thinking (if ever I hâve a 
daughter she certainly shall), but not just at présent, 
the reformation would be too sudden. AU that I can 
promise for at présent is, that *henceforth I will 
chide no breather in the world but myseK, against 
whom I know most faults;' and now, from this day, 
from thîs moment, I vow " 

" No, I shall do it for you," said Mary, with a smile, 
as àhe threw her arms around her neck j "henceforth 

* The golden laws of love shall hê 

Upon this pillar hung ; 
A simple heart, a single eye, 
A true and constant tongaa 

* Let no man for more love prétend 

Than he has hearts in store ; 
True love hegun shall never end : 
Love one, and love no more.*"^ 

But much as Mary loved and admired her cousin, 
she could not be blind to the defects of her character, 
and she feared they might yet be productive of great 
unhappiness to herself. Her mind was open to the 
réception of every image that brought pleasure along 
with it; while, in the same spirit^ she tumed from 
eveiything that wore an air of seriousness or self* 

* "Marquis of Montrose.** 
YGU IL R ■. 



243 XABBIÀGl. 

lestraint ; and eyen the beat affections et a natorany 
good heart were borne away bj tbe aidonr of her 
f eelings and the impetaosity of her temper. Maiy 
grieved to see the grâces of a noble mind thus nmnîng 
wild for want of early cnlture; and she sought by 
every means, save those of lecture and admonition, to 
lead her to more fized habits of reflection and self- 
examinatîon. 

But it required àll her strength of mind to tom 
her thoughts at this time from herself to another — 
she, the betrothed of one who was now in the midst 
of danger, of whose existence she was even uncertain, 
but on whose fate she f elt her own suspended. 

'* Oh 1'' thought she, with bittemess of heart, *'how 
dangerous it is to yield too much even to our best 
affections. I, with so many objects to share in mine, 
hâve yet pledged my happiness on a being perishable 
as myself !'' Ând her soûl sickened at the ills her 
f ancy drew. But she strove to repress this strength 
of attachment^ which she felt would otherwise become 
too powerf ul for her reason to control ; and if she did 
not entîrely succeed, at least the efforts she made and 
the continuai exercise of mind enabled her in some 
degree to counteract the balefuî effects of morbid 
anziety and overweening attachment Ât length her 
appréhensions were relieyed for a time by a letter 
from Colonel Lennox. An engagement with the 
enemy had taken place, but he had escaped unhurt 
He repeated his yows of imalterable affection; and 
Maiy felt that she was justified in receiving tfaem. 




MABRIAGE. 243 

She had made Lady Juliana and Mrs. Douglas both 
acquaînted with her sitaatioa The former had taken 
no notice of the communication, but the latter had 
expressed her approval in ail the warmth and tender- 
ness of gratiôed affection. 



CHAPTEE XXIX. 

" Preaeh as I please, I doubt oiir curîous men 
Will choose a pheasant still before a hen." 

HOBAOB. 

Amongst the various occupations to which Maiy 
devoted herself, tihere was none which merits to be 
recorded as a greater act of immolation than her 
unremitting attentions to Ânnt Grizzy. It was not 
merely the sacrifice of time and talents that was 
reqoired for carrying on this intercourse ; thèse, it is 
to be hoped, even the most selfish can occasionally 
sacrifice to the biensecmces of society; but it was, as 
it were, a total surrender of her whole beîng. To a 
mind of any reflection no situation can ever be very 
irksome in which we can enjoy the privilèges of sit- 
ting still and keeping sîlent — ^but as the companion of 
Miss Grizzy, quiet and reflection were alike unattaîn- 
abla When not engaged in radotage with Sir Samp- 
son, her lif e was spent in losing her scissors, mislaying 
her spectacles, wondering what had become of her 
thimble, and speculating on the disappearance of a 
needle — ail of which losses daQy and hourly recurring, 
subjected Mary to an unceasing annoyance, for she 
could not be five minutes in her aunt's company with 



ICÂERIiLGE. 245 

out beîng ai least as many times dîsturbed, with — 
*!Mary, my dear, will you get up? — I think my spec- 
tacles must be about you " — or, " Mary, my dear, your 
eyes are younger than mine, will you look if you can 
see my needle on the carpet?'* — or, "Are you sure, 
Mary, iihat's not my thîmble you hâve gotl It's very 
lîke it ; and l'm sure I can't conçoive what's become 
of mine, if that's not it," etc. etc. etc. But her idle- 
ness was, if possible, still more irritating than her 
industry. When she betôok herself to the window, 
it was one incessant cry of "Who's coach is that, 
. Mary, with the green and orange liveries î Come 
and look at this lady and gentleman, Mary ; Fm sure 
I wonder who they are ! Here's something, I déclare 
Tm sure I don't know what you call it — come hère, 
Mary, and see what it is " — and so on ad infinUum, 
Walking was still worse. Grizzy not only stood to 
examine every article in the shop Windows, but actu- 
ally tumed round to observe every striking figure 
that passed. In short, Mary could not conceal from 
herself that weak vulgar relations are an evil to those 
whose taste and ideas are refined by superîor inter- 
coursa But even this discovery she did not deem 
suffîcient to authorise her casting off or neglecting 
poor Miss Grizzy, and she in no degree relaxed in her 
patient attentions towards her. 

Even the afiFection of her aunt, which she possessed 
in the highest possible degree, . far from being an 
alleviation, was only an additional torment Every 
meeting began with, "My dear Mary, how did you 



246 KÂSRLLGE. 

deep last niglitf Did you make a goodbreaMast 
this momingt I dedare I think yon look a litde 
pala l'm sare I wish to goodness jou mayn't hâve 
got cold— ^olds are going very much about just now 
— one of the maids in this house has a yeiy bad cold 
— ^I hope you will remember to bathe yonr f eet, and 
take some water gruel to night, and do everything 
that Dr. Redgill desires you, honest man !" If Maiy 
absented herself for a day, her salutation was, "My 
dear Mary, wbat became of you yesterday ? I assure 
you I was quite misérable about you ail day, thinking, 
which was quite natural, that something was the 
matter with you; and I déclare I never closed my 
eyes ail night for thinking about you. I assure you 
if it had not been that I couldn't leave Sir Sampson, 
I would hâve taken a hackney coach, although I know 
what impositions they are, and hâve gone to Beech 
Park to see what had come over yqu." 

Yet ail this Mary bore with the patience of a 
martyr, to the admiration of Lady Maclaughlan and 
the amazement of Lady Emily, who declared she could 
only submit to be bored as long as she was amused. 

On going to Milsom Street one moming Mary 
f ound her aunt in high deHght at two invitations she 
had just received for herself and her nièce. 

" The one," said she, " is to dinner at Mra Pullens's. 
You can't remember her mother, Mrs. Macfuss, I 
daresay, Mary — she was a most excellent woman, I 
assure you, and got ail her daughters married. And 
I remember Mrs. PuUens when she was Mora Mac- 



MABRIAGE. 247 

foss; she^was always thought verylike hermother; 
and Mr. Pullens îs a most worthy man, and very rîch ; 
and it was thought at the tîme a great marrîage for 
Mora Macfuss, for she had no money of her own, but 
her mother was a very clever woman, and a most 
excellent manager ; and I daresay so is Mrs. Pollens, 
for the Macfusses are ail f amous for theîr management 
— so it will be a great thing for you, you bnow,*Mary, 
to be acquainted with Mrs. Pullens." 

Mary was obliged to break in upon thQ eulogîum 
on Mrs. Pullens by notîcing the other card. This was 
a subject for still greater gratulatîon. 

" This," said she, " is from Mrs. Bluemits, and it 
is for the same day with Mrs. Pnllens, only it is to 
te% not to dinner. To be sure it will be a great pity 
to leave Mra Pullens so soon ; but then it would be a 
great pity not to go to Mrs. Bluemits's ; for IVe never 
seen her, and her aunt. Miss Shaw, would think it 
very odd if I was to go back to the Highlands with- 
out seeing Nancy Shaw, now Mrs. Bluemits ; and at 
any rate I assure you we may think much of being 
asked, for she is a very clever woman, and makes 
it a point never to ask any but clever people to her 
house ; so it's a very great honour to be askeA" 

It was an honour Mary would fain hâve dispensed 
with. At another time she might hâve anticipated 
some amusement from such parties, but at présent 
her heart was not tuned to the ridiculous, and she 
attempted to décline the invitations, and get her aunt 
to do the same ; but she gave up the point when she 



248 HARBXAGB. 

saw how deeply Grizzy's happiness for the time beîng 
was inyolved in thèse invitations, and she even con- 
sented to accompany her, conscious, as Lady Mac- 
laughlan said, that the poor créature requîred a lead- 
ing string, and was not fit to go alone. The appointed 
day arrived, and Mary f ound herself in company with 
Aunt Grizzy at l^e mansion of Mr. Pullens, the 
f ortimate husband of the d-devami Miss Flora Macf uss ; 
but as Grizzy is not the best of biographers, we must 
take the liberty of introducing this lady to the ac- 
quaîntance of our reader. 

The domestic economy of Mrs. Pullens was her 
own thème, and the thème of ail her friends; and 
such was the zeal in promulgating her doctrines, and 
her anxiety to see them carried into efifect, that she 
had endeavoured to pass it into a law that no pré- 
serves could be eatable but those preserved in her 
method; no hams conld be good but those cured 
according to her receipt; no liquors drinkable but 
such as were made f rom the results of her expérience ; 
neither was it possible that any linens could be white, 
or any flannels soft, or any muslins clear, unless after 
the manner practised in her laundry. By her own 
account she was the slave of every servant within her 
door, for her lif e seemed to be one unceasing labour 
to get everything done in her own way, to the very 
blacking of Mr. Pullens's shoes, and the brushing of 
Mr. PuUens's coat. But then thèse heroic acts of duty 
were more than repaid by the noble consciousness of 
a life well spent. Tn her own estimation she was one 



MARBIAGS. 249 

of the greatest characters that had ever lived ; for, ix) 
use lier own words, she passed nothing over — she saw 
everything done herself — she trusted nothing to ser- 
vants, etc. etc. eta 

From the contemplation of thèse her virtues her 
face had acquired an expression of complacency f oreign 
to her natural temper; for, after having scolded ând 
slaved in the kitchen, she sat down to taste the fruits 
of her labours with far more elevated feelings of 
conscious virtue than ever warmed the breast of a 
Hampden or a Howard ; and when she helped Mr. 
PuUens to pie, made not by the cook, but by herself, 
it was with an ah* of self-approbation that might hâve 
YÎed with that of the celebrated Jack Homer upon 
a sîmilar occasion. In many cases there might hâve 
been merit in Mrs. Pullens's doings- -a narrow income, 
the capricious taste of a sick or a cross husband, may 
exalt the meanest offices which woman can render 
into acts of virtue, and even diffuse a dignity around 
them; but Mr. Pullens was rich and good-natured, 
and would hâve been happy had his cook been allowed 
to dress his dinner, and his barber his wig, quietly in 
theîr own way. Mrs. Pullens, therefore, only sought 
the indulgence of her own low inclinations in thus 
interfering in every menial department ; while, at the 
same time, she expected ail the gratitude and admira- 
tion that would hâve been due to the sacrifice of the 
most refined taste and élégant pursuits. 

But " envy does merit as its shade pursue," as Mrs. 
Pullens experienced, for she found herself assailed by 



250 KABBIAGE. 

a IiOBt of housekeepers who attempted io throw dis- 
crédit on her various arts. At the head of this asso- 
ciation was Mrs. Jekyll, whose arrangements were on 
a quite contrarj plan. The great branch of science 
on which Mrs. Pullens mainly relied for famé was 
her nnrivalled art in keeping things long beyond the 
date assigned by nature; and one of her master-strokes 
was, in the middle of summer, to surprise a whole 
Company with gooseberry tarts made of gooseberries 
of the preceding year ; and her triumph was complète 
when any of them were so polite as to assert that 
they might hâve passed upon them for the fruits of 
the présent season. Another art in which she flattered 
herself she was unrivalled was that of making things 
pass for what they were not ; thus, she gave pork for 
lamb — common f owls for turkey poults — currant wine 
for Champagne — ^whisky with peach leaves for noyau ; 
but ail thèse déceptions Mrs. Jekyll piqued herself in 
immediately detecting, and never failed to point out 
the différence, and in the politest manner to hint her 
préférence of the real over the spurioua Many were 
the wonderful morsels with which poor Mr. Pullens 
was regaled, but he had now ceased to be surprised 
at anything that appeared on his own table ; and he 
had so of ten heard the merit of his wîfe's housekeeping 
extolled by herself that, contrary to his natural con- 
viction, he now began to think it must be true ; or if 
he had occasionally any little private misgivings when 
he thought of the good dinners he used to hâve in his 
bachelor days, he comforted himself by thinking that 




MABBIAGE. 251 

Lis lot was the lot of ail mamed men who are blest 
with active, managing, economical wiye& Such were 
Mr. and Mrs. PuUens; and the appearance of the 
bouse offered no inadéquate idea of the mistress. 
The fumiture was incongruous, and everything was 
iU-matched — for Mrs. Pullens was a fréquenter of 
sales» and, like many other libéral -mînded ladîes, 
never allowed a bargain to pass, whether she required 
the articles or not Her dress was the same ; therè 
was always something to wonder at; caps that had 
been bought for nothing, because they were a little 
soiled, but by being taken down and washed, and 
new trimmed, tumed out to be just as good as new — 
gowns that had been dyed, tumed, cleaned, washed, 
etc. ; and the great triumph was when nobody could 
tell the old breadth from the new. 

The dinner was of course bad, the company stupid, 
and the conversation turned solely upon Mrs. Pullens's 
exploits, with occasional attempts of Mrs. Jekyll to 
depreciate the merits of some of her discoverîes. At 
length the hour of departure arrived, to Mary's great 
relief, as she thought any change must be for the 
better. Not so Grizzy, who was charmed and con- 
founded by ail she had seen, and heard, and tasted, 
and ail of whose préconceived ideas on the subjects of 
washing, preserving, etc., had sustained a total lovlù- 
versement^ upon hearing of the superior methods prao- 
tised by Mrs. Pullens. 

"Well, certainly, Mary, you must allow Mrs. 
Pullens is an astonishing clever woman ! Indeed, I 



I 

I 



252 MABBIAGIS. 

ihink nobody can dispute it— only tliink of her never 
using a bit of soap in her house — eyer3rthing is waahed 
bj.steam. To be sure, as Mra Jekyll said, the table- 
linen was remarkably ill-coloured — ^but no wonder, 
considering — ^it must be a great saving, Fm sure — ^and 
she always stands and sees it done herself, for there's 
no trusting thèse things to serrants. Once when she 
trusted it to them, they bumed a dozen of Mr. Pullens's 
new shirts, just from carelessness, which Fm sure was 
very provoldng. To be sure, as Mrs. Jekyll said, if 
she had used soap like other people that wouldn't 
hâve happened ; and then it is wonderful how well 
she contrives to keep things. I déclare I can't think 
enough of thèse green peas that we had at dinner to- 
day having been kept since summer was a year. To 
be sure, as Mrs. Jekyll said, they certainly were hard 
— nobody can deny that — but then, you know, any- 
thing would be hard that had been kept since summer 
was a year ; and I*m sure I thought they ate wonder- 
fuUy well considering — and thèse red currants, too — 
Fm afraid you didn't taste them — I wish to goodness 
you had tasted them, Mary. They were sour and dry, 
certainly, as Mrs. Jekyll said; but no wonder, any- 
thing would be sour and dry that had been kept in 
bottles for three years." 

Grizzy was now obliged to change the current of 
her ideas, for the carriage had stopped at Mr& 
Bluemits'flL 




CHAPTER XXX. 

"It is certain great knowledge, if it be witliout Tanity, is 
ihe most severe bridle of the longue. For so haye I heard, 
that ail »the noises and prating of the pool, the croaking of 
frogs and toads, is hushed and appeased upon the instant of 
bringing upon them the Ught of a candie or torch. Ëyery 
beam of reason, and ray of knowledge, checks the dissolutions 
of the tongue." — Jeebmt Taylor. 

They were received by Mrs. Bluemits with that air 
of condescension which great soûls practise towards 
ordinary mortals, and which is intended, at one and 
the^same time, to encourage and to repel; to show 
the extent of theîr goodness, even while they make, 
or try to make, their protégé feel the immeasurable 
distance which nature or fortune has placed between 
them. 

It wafl with this air of patronising grandeur that 
Mrs. Bluemits took her guests by the hand, and 
introdnced them to the circle of females aheady 
assembled. 

Mrs. Bluemits was not an avowed authoress ; but 
she was a prof essed critic, a well-informed woman, a 
woman of great conversational powers, etc., and, to 
use her own phrase, nothing but conversation was 
spoken in her house. Her guests were therefore 



254 MARBIAGE. 

always expected to be distînguîshed, eîther for some 
literary production or for their taste in the belles 
lettres, Two ladies from Scotland, the land of poetry 
ftnd romance, were consequently hailed as new stars 
in Mrs. Blnemits's horizon. No sooner were thej 
seated than Mrs. Bluemits began — 

^ As I am a friend to ease in literary society, we 
shall, without ceremony, résume our conversation; 
for, as Seneca observes, the ' comf ort of lif e dépends 
upon conversation.'" 

" I think," said Miss Graves, " it is Eochefoucault 
who says, ' The great art of conversation is to hear 
patiently and answer precisely.' " 

" A very poor définition for so prof ound a philo- 
sopher," remarked Mrs. Apsley. 

" The amiable author of what the gîgantic John- 
son styles the melancholy and angry "Night Thoughts," 
gives a nobler, a more elevated, and, in my humble 
opinion, a juster explication of the intercourse of 
mind," said Miss Parkins; and ahe repeated the 
following lines with pompons enthusiasm : — 



u 



Speech ventilâtes onr intellectual fire, 
Speech bumishes our mental magazine, 
Brightens for omament, and whets for uae. 
What numbers, sheath'd in érudition, lie, 
Plung'd to the hilts in vénérable tomes, 
And rusted in, who might hâve borne an edge, 
And play'd a sprightly beam, if born to speech — 
If born blest heirs of half their mother's tongoe 1 '* 



Mrs. Bluemits proceeded : 




MABHIAGE. 255 

** TÎ8 thonght's ezchange, whîcli, lîke the altemate pnsh 
Of waves conflîctîng/ breaks the leamed scum. 
And defecates the stadent's standing pool." 

"The sensitive poet of Olney, if I mîstake not>" 
saîd Mrs. Dalton, '^steers a middle course, betwixt 
the somewhat bald maxîm of the Parîsian philosopher 
and the moumful pruriency of the Bard of Night, 
when he says, 

' Oonyersation, in its better part, 
May be esteem'd a gift, and not an art' " 

Mary had been accustomed to read, and to reflect 
apon what she read, and to apply it to the purpose 
for which it îs valuable, viz. in enlarging her mind 
and cultiyating her taste; but she had never been 
accustomed to prate, or quote, or sit down for the 
express purpose of displaying her acquirements ; and 
she began to tremble at hearing authors' names 
" f amiliar in their mouths as household words ; " but 
Grizzy, strong in ignorance, was nowise daunted. 
True, she heard what she could not comprehend, but 
she thought she would soon make things clear ; and 
she therefore tumed to her neighbour on her right 
hand, and accosted her with — "My nièce and I are 
jnst corne from dining at Mrs. Pullens's — I daresay 
you hâve heard of her — she was Miss Flora Macfuss ; 
her father, Dr. Macfuss, was a most excellent preacher, 
and she is a remarkable clever woman." 

" Pray, ma'am, has she come out, or is she simply 
id esprU ?" inquired the lady. 

Gxizzy was rather at a loss ; and, indeed, to answer 






256 MÀBBIÀGE. 

a question pnt in an unknown language, would puzzle 
wiser braîns than hers ; but Grizzy was accustomed to 
converse without being able to comprehend, and she 
therefore went on. 

"Her mother, Mrs. Macfuss — but she îs dead — ^was 
a very élever woman too ; l'm sure I déclare I don't 
know whether the Doctor or her was tbe cleverest ; 
but many people, I know, thînk Mr& PuUens beats 
them both." 

'^Indeedl may I ask in what department she 
chiefly excels ?" 

" Oh, I really think in everything. For one thîng, 
everything in her house îs done by steam ; and then 
she can keep everything, I can't tell how long, just in 
paper bags and bottles ; and she is going to publish a 
book with ail her receipts in it Fm sure it will be 
very interesting." 

** I beg ten thousand pardons for the interruption," 
cried Mrs. Bluemits from the opposite side of the 
room; '*but my ear was smote with the sounds of 
puhlishy and ifUerestingy — ^words which never fail to 
awaken a responsive chord in my bosom. Pray," 
addressing Grizzy, and bringing her into the f ull blaze 
of observation, ^'may I ask, was it of the Campbell 
thèse electric words were spokenî To you, madam, I 
am sure I need not apologise for my enthusiasm — ^you 
who claim the proud distinction of being a country- 
woman, need I ask — an acquaintance V 

Ail that poor Grizzy could comprehend of thii 
harangue was that it was reckoned a great honour to 




MARRIAGE. 267 

be acquaînted with a Campbell ; and chuckling with 
delight at the îdea of lier own conséquence, she 
briskly replied— 

"Oh, I know plenty of Campbells; there's the 
Campbells of Mireside, relations of ours ; and there's 
the Campbells of Blackbrae, married into our family ; 
and there's the Campbells of Windlestrae Glen, are 
not very distant by my mother's side." 

Mary felt as if perforated by bullets in ail direc- 
tions, as she encountered the eyes of the company, 
tumed altemately upon her aunt and her ; but they 
were on opposite sides of the room; therefore to 
interpose betwixt Grizzy ma her assailants was im- 
possibla 

"Possibly," suggested Mrs. Dalton, "Miss Douglas 
prefers the loftier strains of the mighty Minstrel of 
the Mountains to the more polished periods of the 
Poet of the Transatlantic Plain." 

" Without either a possibility or a perhaps," said 
Mia Apsley, "the probability is. Miss Douglas pre- 
fers* the author of the ' Giaour ' to ail the rest of her 
poetical countrymen. Where, in either Walter Scott or 
Thomas Campbell, wiU you find such lines as thèse: — 

* Wet with their own best blood, shall drip 
Thy gnashing tooth and haggard lip !' " 

"Pardon me, madam," said Miss Parkin; "but I 
am of opinion you hâve scarcely given a f air spécimen 
of the powers of the Noble Bard in question. The 
image hère presented is a f amiliar one ; ' the gnashing 
tooth' and 'haggard lip' we hâve ail witnessed, per* 

YOU IL s . M. 



258 ICARRIAGE. 

haps some of us may even hâve experîencecL Thete is 
consequently little merit in presentiag it to the mind's 
eya It is easy, comparatively speaking, to portray 
the feelings and passions of oor own kind. We hâve 
only, as Dryden expresses it, to descend into ourselves 
to find the secret imperfections of our mind. It is 
therefore in his portraiture of the canine race that 
the illustrions author has so far excelled ail his con- 
temporaries— in fact, he has given quite a dramatic 
oast to his dogs," and she repeated with an air of 
triumph — 

" And he saw the lean dogs beneath the wbH, 
Hold o'er the dead their carnival ; 
Qorging and growling o'er carcase and limb, 
They were too bnsy to bark at him 1 
From a Tartar's skoll they had stripped the flesh, 
As ye peel the fig when its fruit is fresh ; 
And their white tusks cronched o'er the whiter sknll, 
As it slipped through their jaws when their edge grew dnll ; 
As they lazily mumbled the bones of tha dead, 
When they scarce could rise from the spot where they fed." 

"Now, to enter into the conceptions of a dog — 
to embody one's self, as it were, in the person of a 
brute — ^to sympathise in its feelings — to make its pro- 
pensities our own — to * lazily mumble the bones of the 
deady' with our own individual ' white tusks ' ! Pardon 
me, madam, but with ail due déférence to the genius 
of a Scott^ it is a thing he has not dared to attempt 
Only the finest mind in the universe was capable of 
taking so bold a flight Scott's dogs, n^^^^liTlf^^ are 
tame, domettio animais — ^mere human dogs, if I may 



MARRIAGE. 259 

«ay 80. Byron's dogs But let them speak for 

thernselves ! 

' The scalps were in thé wild dog's maw, 
The haïr was tangled round his jaw.' 

Show me, if you eau, such an image in Scott ?** 

"Very fine, certainly!" was hère uttered by five 
novices, who were only there as probationers, conse- 
quently not privileged to go beyond a response. 

"Is it the dancing dogs they are speaking about?" 
asked Grizzy. But looks of sîlent contempt were the 
only replies she received. 

" I trust I shall not be esteemed presumptuous," 
said Miss Graves, '* or supposed capable of entertain- 
ing views of detracting from the merits of the Noble 
Âuthor at présent under discussion, if I humbly but 
firmly enter my caveat against the word * crunch,' as 
constîtutîng an innovation in our language, the purity 
of which cannot be too strictly preserved or pointedly 
enf orced. I am aware that by some I may be deemed 
unnecessarily fastidious; and possibly Christine^ Queen 
of ^Sweden, might hâve applied to me the celebrated 
observation, said to hâve been elicited from her by 
the f amed work of the laborious French Lexicographer, 
viz. that be was the most troublesome person in the 
world, for be required of every word to produce its 
passport, and to déclare whence it came and whither 
it was going. I confess, I too, for the sake of my 
country, would wish that every word we use might 
be compelled to show its passport, attested by our 
great lawgiver, Dr. Samuel Johnson." 



260 MARRUGE. 

"Unquestîonably,'' saîd Mrs. Bluemîts, "purîty of 
language ought to be preserved inviolate at any price ; 
and it îs more especîally incumbent upon tbose who 
exercise a sway over our mînds — those who are, as it 
were, the moulds in which our young imaginations are 
formed, to be the watchful guardians of our language. 
But I lament to say that in fact it is not so ; and that 
the aberrations of our vemacular tongue hâve pro-. 
ceeded solely from the licentious use made of it by 
those whom we are taught to révérence as the fathers 
of the Sock and Lyre." 

" Yet in f amiliar coUoquy, I do not greatly object 
to the use of a word occasîonally, even although 
unsanctioned by the authority of our mighty Lezî- 
cographer/' said a new speaker. 

"For my part," said Miss Parkins, "a genius 
fettered by rules always reminds me of Gulliver in 
the hairy bonds of the Lilliputians ; and the sentiment 
of the élégant and enlightened bard of Twickenham 
is also mine — 

* Great wits sometimes may gloriously ofifend, 
And rîse to faults true crîtics dare not mend ; 
From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part, 
And match a grâce beyond the reach of art' 

So it is with the subject of our argument : a tamer 
genius than the illustrious Byron would not hâve 
dared to * crunch ' the bone. But where, in the whole 
compass of the English language, will you find a word 
capable of conveying the same idea ^ " 

"Pick," modestly snggested one of the novices 



MÀRBIAGE. , 261 

în a low key, hoping to gain some celebrîty by thia 
her jEurst effort ; but this dawn of intellect passed un- 
BOticed. 

The argument was now beginnîng to nin high ; 
parties were evidently f orming of cruncbers and anti- 
crunchers, and etymology was beginning to be called 
for, when a thundering knock at the door caused a 
cessation of hostilities. 

"That, I flatter myself, is my friend Miss Griffon," 
said Mrs. Bluemits, with an air of additional import- 
ance ; and the name was whispered round the circle, 
coupled with "Celebrated Authoress — *Fevers of the 
Heart' — *Thoughts of the Moment^*" eta eta 

''Is she a real authoress that is comingT' asked 
Miss Grizzy at the lady next her. And her delight 
was great at receiving an answer in the affirmative ; 
for Grizzy thought to be in company with an authoress 
was the next thing to being an authoress herself ; and, 
like some other people, she had a sort of vague mys- 
terious révérence for every one whose words had been 
printed in a book. 

"Ten thousand thousand pardons, dearest Mr& 
Bluemits!" exclaimed Miss Griffon, as she entered. 
"I fear a world of intellect is lost to me by this cruel 
delay." Then in an audible whisper — "But I was 
detained by my publisher. He quite persécutes me 
to write. My * Fevers of the Heart * bas had a pro- 
digious run ; and even my ' Thoughts,' which, in fact, 
cost me no thought, are amazingly recherché. And I 
actoally had to force my way to you to-night througb 



262 HABRIAGE. 

a légion of printer's devils, who were lying în waît for 
me with each a sheet of my 'Billows of Love.'" 

'*The tîtle is most musical, most melancholy," saîd 
Mrs. Bluemits, " and conveys a perfect idea of what 
Dryden tenns 'the sweeping déluge of the soûl;' but 
I flatter myself we shall hâve something more than a 
name from Miss GrîfiTon's genîus. The Âonian grâces^ 
'tis well known, always follow in her train." ^ 

"They hâve made a great hole in it then," said 
Grizzy, officiously displaying a fracture in the train of 
Miss GrîfiTon's gown, and from thence taking occasion 
to deliver her sentiments on the proprîety of people 
who tore gowns always being obliged to mend thenL 

Af ter suitable entreaties had been used, Miss GrifiTon 
was at last prevailed upon to faveur the company 
with some spécimens of the "Billows of Love" (of 
which we were unable to procure copies), and the 
foUowing sonnet, the production of a friend : — 

" Hast thou no note for joy, thou weeping lyre f 
Doth yew and willow ever shade thy strîng^ 
And melancholy sable banners fling, 

Warring 'midst hosts of élégant désire ? 

How vain the strîfe — how vain the warlike gloom I 
Love's arms are grief^hîs arrows sîghs and tean ; 
And every moan thou mak'st, an altar rears, 

To which lus worshippers devontly corne. 

Then rather, lyre, I pray thee, tiy thy skill* 
In varied measure, on a sprightlier key : 
Perchance thy gayer tones' light minstrelsy, 

May heal the poison that thy plaints distiL 

But much I fear that joy is danger still ; 

And joy, like woe, love's triumph must fulfiL" 

This called forth unanimous applause — "délicate 



MABHIAGE. 263 

îmagery" — "smootli versification" — "classical ideas" 
— " Petrarchian sweetness," etc. etc., resounded from 
ail quarters. 

But even intellectual joys hâve their termination, 
and caniages and servants began to be announced in 
rapid succession. 

"Hynot yetj.'tis just the hour," said Mra Blue- 
mits to the first of her departing guests, as the clock 
struck ten. 

" It is gone, with its thoms and its roses," replied 
her friend with a sigh, and a farewell pressure of the 
hand. 

Another now advanced — " Wilt thou be gone ? It 
is not yet near day." 

** I hâve less will to go than care to stay," was the 
reply. 

"Porto H lasdo adiOy" warbled Miss Parkins. 

"I vanish," said Mrs. Apsley, snatching up her 
tippet^ réticule, etc., " and, like the baseless fabric of 
a vision, leave not a wreck behind." 

"Fare-thee-well at once — Adieu, adieu, adieu, re- 
member me 1" cried the last of the band, as she slowly 
retreated. 

Mrs. Bluemits waved her hand with a look of 
tender reproach, as she repeated — 

** An adieu shonld in utterance die, 

Or, if written, should faintly appear — 
Should be heard in the sob of a sigh, 
Or be seen in the blot of a tear." 

**Fm sure, Mary," said Grizzy, when they were ia 



264 MARRIAGE. 

the carriage, '*I expected, when ail the ladies were 
repeating, that you would hâve repeated somethîng 
too. You used to hâve the Hennit and ail Watts's 
Hymns by heait, when you was lîttle. It's a thou- 
sand pitiés, I déclare, that you should hâve foigot 
them j for I déclare I was quite aflFronted to see you 
sitting like a stick, and not saying a word, when ail 
the Les were speaking and Sng up their eyes, 
and moving their hands so prettily ; but Fm suie I 
hope next time you go to Mrs. Bluemits's you will 
take care to leam something by heart before you go. 
l'm sure I haven't a very good memory, but I remem- 
ber some things ; and I was very near going to repeat 
*Farewell to Lochaber' myself, as we were coming 
away ; and l'm sure I wish to goodness I had done it ; 
but I suppose it wouldn't do to go back now ; and at 
any rate ail the ladies are away, and I dare say the 
candies wiU be out by this time." 

Mary felt it a relief to hâve done with this surfeit 
of soûl, and was of opinion that leaming, like religion, 
ought never to be f orced into conversation ; and that 
people who only read to talk of their reading might 
as well let it alone. Next morning she gave so ludi- 
crous an account of her entertainment that Lady Emily 
was quite charmed. 

"Now I begin to hâve hopes of you," said she, 
"since I see you can laugh at your friends as well 
as ma" 

"Not at my friends, I hope," answered Mary; 
"onlyatfolly." 



MABRIÀOS. 265 

"Call ît what you will — I only wîsh I had been 
thera I should certainly hâve started a controversy 
upon the respective merits of Tom Thumb and Puss 
în Boots, and so hâve called them off Lord Byron. 
Their pretendîng to measure the genius of a Scott or 
a Byron must hâve been somethîng like a fly attempt- 
îng to take the altitude of Mont Blona How I 
detest those ' îdle disquisitions about the colour of a 
goat's beard, or the blood of an oyster.'" 

Mary had seen in Mrs. Douglas the effects of a 
highly cultivated understanding shedding its mild 
radiance on the path of domestic life, heightening its 
charms, and sof tening its asperities, with the benign 
spirit of Christianity. Her charity was not like that 
of Mra Fox ; she did not indulge herself in the pur- 
chase of élégant omaments, and then, seated in the 
easy chair of her drawing-room, extort from her 
visitors money to satisfy the wants of those who had 
claims on her own bounty. No: she gave a large 
portion of her time, her thoughts, her fortune, to the 
most sacred of ail duties— charity, in its most compre- 
hensive meaning. Neither did her knowledge, like 
that of Mrs. Bluemits, evaporate in pedantic discussion 
or idle déclamation, but showed itself in the ténor 
of a well-spent life, and in the graceful discharge of 
those duties whîch belonged to her sex and station. 
Next to goodness Mary most ardently admired talents. 
She knew there were many of her own sex who were 
justly entitled to the distinction of literary famé. 
Her introduction to the circle at Mrs. Bluemits's had 



266 MÂBRIAGE. 

disappointed her ; bnt they were mère pretenders to 
the nama How différent from those described hj 
oneno less amiable and enlightened herself! — "Let 
sucb women as are disposed to be vain of their com- 
paratively petty attaînments look up with admiration 
to those contemporary shining examples, the vénér- 
able Elizabeth Carter and the blooming Elizabeth 
SmitL In them let our young ladies contemplate 
prof ound and various leaming, chastîsed by tnie Chris- 
tian humility. In them let them venerate acquire- 
ments which would hâve been distinguished in a 
uniyersity, meekly softened, and beautifuUy shaded 
by the exertion of every domestîc virtue, the un- 
affected exercise of every féminine employment"^ 



1 tt 



Cœlebs." 




OHAPTEE XXXI 

** The gods, to cnrse Pamela with her pray'rs, 
Gave the gilt coach and dappled Handers mares ; 
The shining robes, rich jewels, beds of state, 
And, to complète her bliss, a fool for mate. 
She glares in balls, ûront boxes, and the ring — 
A Tain, unquiet, glitt'ring, wretched thing t 
Pride^ pomp, and state, but reach her outward part ; 
She sighs, and is no dnchess at her heart" 

POFI. 

For many months Mary was doomed to expérience 
ail the vicissitudes of hope and f car, as she heard of 
batdes and sièges in which her lover had a part He 
omitted no opportunity of writing to her ; but scarcely 
had she received the assurance of his safety from 
himself when her appréhensions were again excited 
by romours of fresh dangers he would hâve to en- 
connter j and it required ail her pious confidence and 
strengtih of mind to save her from yielding to the 
despondency of a naturally sensitîve heart But in 
administering to the happiness of others she found 
the surest alleviation to the misfortune that threatened 
herself ; and she often forgot her own cares in her 
benevolent exertions for the poor, the sick, and the 
desolate. It was then she f elt ail the tendemess of 



268 HABRIAGE. 

that divine precept which enjoins love of iihe Creator 
as the engrossing prindple of the souL For, oh ! the 
unutterable angoish that heart must endure which 
lavishes ail its best affections on a créature mutable 
and perishable as itself , f rom whom a thousand acci- 
dents maj separate or estrange it^ and from whom 
death must one day divide it ! Yet there is some- 
thing so amiable, so exalting, in the fervour of a pure 
and gênerons attachment, that f ew bave been able to 
resist its overwhelming influence ; and it is only time 
and suffering that can teach us to comprehend the 
i;niseries that wait on the excess» even of our virtuous 
inclinations, where thèse virtues aspire not bejond 
this transitory scène. 

Mary seldom heard from her mother or sîster. 
Their time was too precious to be wasted on dull 
country correspondents ; but she saw their names 
frequently mentioned in the newspapers, and she 
flattered herself,from the éclat with which the Duchess 
seemed to be attended, that she had found happiness 
in those pleasures where she had been taught to 
expect it The Duchess was indeed surrounded 
with ail that rank, wealth, and fashion could bestow. 
She had the finest house, jewels, and équipages in 
London, but she was not happy. She f elt the draught 
bitter, even though the goblet that held it was of 
gold. It is novelty only that can lend charms to 
things in themselves valueless ; and when that wears 
off, the disenchanted baubles appear in ail their native 
worthlessnesSi There is even a satiety in the free 



KABBIiiaK, 269 

indulgence of wealth, when that indulgence centres 
solely in seU, and brings no gênerai self-approving 
refiections along with it So it was with the Duchess 
of Âltamont She souglit^ in the gratification of 
every expensive whim, to stîmulate the languid sensé 
of joy ; and, by loading herself with jewels, she strove 
to still the restless inquiétude of a dissatisfied heart 
But it is only the vulgar mind whîch can long find 
enjoyment in the mère attributes of wealth — in the 
co;t^,lation of dlk hangbgs. and gilded chairs, and 
splendid dresses, and showy equipage& Amidst aU 
thèse the mind of any taste or refinement, " distrust- 
ing, asks if this be joy." And Âdelaide possessed 
both taste and refinement, though her ideas had been 
peryerted and her heart corrupted by the f aise maxims 
early instilled into her. Yet, selfish and unfeeling 
as she was, she sickened at the etemal récurrence of 
self-indulged caprices ; and the bauble that had been 
hailed with delight the one day as a charmed ^iinulet 
to dispel her ennui, was the next beheld with disgust 
or indifierence. She believed, indeed, that she had 
real sources of vexation in the self-will and obstinacy 
of.herhusband, and that, had he been otherwise than 
he was, she should then hâve been completely happy. 
She would not acknowledge, even to herself, that she 
had done wrong in manying a man whose person 
was disagreeable to her, and whose understanding 
she despised ; while her préférence was decidedly in 
faveur of another. Even her style of life was in 
some respects distastef ul to her ; yet she was obliged 



270 XÂSSUCnL 

to oonform to it The Duke retained exBCÛy Ae 
same notions of things as had taken possession of his 
braîn thirty years before; consequentlj eveiything 
in his establishment was condncted with a r^ularitj 
and nnif oimîty nnknown to those whose habits are 
f ormed on the moie eccentric models of tibe présent 
day; or rather, who hâve no models save those of 
their own capridoos tastes and inclination& He had 
an antîpathy to balls, concerts, and masquerades ; for 
he did not dance, knew nothing of music, and stîll 
less of badinaffe. Bat he liked great dull dinners, for 
there the conversation was.generally adapted to his 
capadtyj and it^ a pleasore to him to arrange the 
party — ^to look over the bill of fare — to see ail the 
family plate displayed — and to read an acconnt of 
the grand dûmer at the Duke of Âltamont's in the 
" Momîng Post" of the following day. Ail this 
sounds very vulgar for the pastimes of a Duke ; but 
there are vulgar-minded Dukes as there are gifted 
plonghmen, or any other anomaHes. The former 
Duchess, a woman of high birth, similar years, and 
kindred spirit of his own in ail matters of f orm and 
diqueiUy was his standard of female propriety; and 
she would hâve deemed it highly derogatory to her 
dignity to hâve patronised any other species of enter- 
taînment than grand dinners and dull assemblie& 

Adélaïde had attempted with a high hand at once 
to overtum the whole System of Altamont House, 
and had f aQed. She had declared her detestatîon 
of dinners, and been heard in silence. She had kept 




MARRIAGB. 271 

ter room thrîce when they were given, but without 
Buccess. She had insisted upon giving a bail, but the 
Duke, with the most perfect composure, had peremp- 
torily declared it must be an assembly. Thus baffled 
in ail her plans of domestîc happîness, the Duchess 
would hâve sought her pleasures elsewhere. She 
would hâve lived anywhere but in her own house — 
associated with everybody but her own husband — 
and done everything but what she had vowed to dq. 
But even in this she was thwarted. The Duke had 
the same précise formai notions of a lady's conduct 
abroad, as well as her appearance at home ; and the 
very places she would hâve most wished to go to were 
those she was expressly prohibited from ever appear- 
ing at 

Even ail that she could hâve easily settled to her 
own satisfaction by the simple apparatus of a separate 
establishment carried on in the same house ; but hère 
too she was foiled, for his Grâce had stubbom notions 
on that score also, and plainly hinted that any sépara- 
tion must be final and decided ; and Adelaide could 
not ^et résolve upon taking so formidable a step in 
the first year of her marriage. She was therefore 
compelled to drag the chain by which, with her own 
will, she had bound herself for lif e to one she already 
despised and detested. Ând bound she was, in the 
strictest sensé of the metaphor ; for, though the Duke 
had not the smaUest pleasure in the society of his 
wife, he yet attached great ideas of propriety to their 
being always aeen together, side by sida Like his 



272 MABBIAGE. 

sister, Lady Matilda, he haxl a hîgh révérence for 
appearances, though he had not her finesse in giving 
them effect He had merely been accostomed to do 
what he thought looked well, and gave hîm an air of 
additional dignîty. He had marrîed Adélaïde because 
he thought she had a fine présence, and wonld look 
well as Duchess of Âltamontj and, for the same 
reason, now that she was his wedded wife, he thought 
ît looked well to be seen àlwajs together. He there- 
fore made a point of having no separate engagements ; 
and even carried his sensé of propriety so far, that as 
regularly as the Duchess's carriage came to the door 
the Duke was prepared to hand her in, in due form, 
and take his station by her sida This alone would 
hâve been suffîcient to hâve embittered Adelaide's 
existence, and she had tried eveiy expédient^ but in 
vain, to rid herself of this public display of conjugal 
duty. She had opened her landaulet in cold weather, 
and shut it^ even to the glasses, in a scorching sun; 
but the Duke was insensible to beat and cold. He 
was most provokingly healthy ; and she had not even 
the respite which an attack of rheumatism or tooth- 
ache would hâve afforded. As his Grâce was not a 
person of keen sensation, this continuai effort to keep 
up appearances cost him little or nothing ; but to the 
Duchess's nicer tact it was martyrdom to be compelled 
to Bubmit to the semblance of affection where there 
was no reality. Ah, nothing but a sensé of duty, 
early instîlled and practically enforced, can recondle 
a refined mind to the painful task of bearing with 



MARBIÀGE. 273 

meekness and gentleness the ill-temper, adverse will, 
and opposite sentiments of those with whom we can 
acknowledge no feeHng in common ! 

But Âdelaide possessed no sensé of duty, and was 
a stranger to seH-command ; and though she boasted 
refînement of mînd, yet it was of that spnrious sort 
which, far from elevating and purifying the heart, 
tends only to corrupt and debase the soûl, while it 
sheds a f aise and dazzling lustre upon those perishable 
grâces which captivate the sensés. 

It may easily be imagined the good sensé of the 
mother did not tend to soothe the irritated feelings 
of the daughter. Lady Juliana was indeed quite as 
much exasperated as the Duchess at thèse obstacles 
thrown in the way of her pleasures, and the more so 
as she could not quite clearly comprehend them. The 
good-nature of her husband and the easy indolence of 
her brother even her f olly had enabled her, on many 
occasions, to get the better of ; but the obstinacy of 
her son-in-law was invincible to ail her arts. She 
could theref ore only wonder to the Duchess how die 
could not manage to get the better of the Duke's pré- 
judices agaînst balls and concerts and masquerades. 
It was so excessively ridiculous, so perfectly foolish, 
not to do as other people did; and there was the 
Duchess of Byston gave Sunday concerts, and Lady 
Oakham saw masks, and even old ugly Lady Loddon 
had a bail, and the Prince at it ! How vastly pro- 
vokingl how unreasonable in a man of the Duke's 
years to expect a girl like Âdelaide to conf orm to ail 

VOL. IL T K. 



274 MABRIAGE. 

his old-fashioned notions ! Ànd then she would 
wisely appeal to Lord Lindore whether it was not toc 
absord in the Duke to interfère with the Duchess's 
arrangement& 

Lord Lindore was a fréquent visiter at Âltamont 
House ; for the Duke, satisfied with his having been 
once refused, was nowise jealous of him; and Lord 
Lindore was too quiet and refined in his attentions to 
excite the attention of any one so stupid and obtuse. 
It was not the least of the Duchess's mortifications to 
be constantly contrasting her former lover — élégant, 
captivating, and spmbid — ^with her husband, awk- 
ward, insipid, and dull, as the fat weed that rots on 
Lethe's shore. Lord Lindore was indeed the most 
admired man in Lôndon, celebrated for his conquests, 
his horses, his élégance, manner, dress ; in short, in 
everything he gave the tona But he had too much 
taste to carry anything to extrême ; and in the midst 
of incense, and^ adulation, and imitation, he stîll re- 
taîned that simple unostentatious élégance that 
marks the man of real fashidn — ^the man who feels 
his own conséquence, independent of ail eztraneous 
modes or fleeting fashions. 

There is, perhaps, nothing so imposing, notfaing 
that carries a greater sway over a mind of any refine- 
ment, than simplicity, when we f eel assured that it 
springs from a genuine contempt of show and osten- 
tation. Lord Lindore was aware of this, and he did 
not attempt to vie with the Duke of Altamont in the 
splendeur of his équipage, the richness of his liveries, 




MABRIAGE. 275 

tho nomber of his attendants, or any of those obvions 
attractions ; on the contrary, everything belonging to 
him was of the plainest description; and, except in 
the beauty of his horses, he seemed to scom every 
species of extravagance; but then he rode with so 
much élégance, he drove his curricle with such grace- 
ful ease, as formed a striking contrast to the formai 
Duke, sittîng bolt-upright in his state chariot, chapeau 
hras^ and star; and the Duchess often quitted the 
Park, where Lord Lindore was the admired of ail 
admirers, mortified and ashamed at being seen in the 
same carriage with the man she had chosen for her 
husband. Ambition had led her to marry the Duke, 
and that same passion now heightened her attach- 
ment for Lord Lindore ; for, sb some one has re- 
marked, ambition is not always the désire for that 
which is in itself excellent^ but for that which is most 
prized by others; and the handsome Lord Lindore 
was courted and caressed in circles where the duU, 
précise Duke of Altamont was wholly overlooked. 
Months passed in this manner, and every day added 
something to Adelaide's f eelings of chagrin and dis- 
appointment But it was still worse when she f ound 
herself settled for a long season at Norwood Abbey — 
a duU, magnificent résidence, with a vast unvaried 
park, a profusion of sombre trees, and a sheet of still 
water, decorated with leaden deitiea Within doors 
everything was in the same style of vapid, tasteless 
grandeur, and the society was not such as to dispel 
the ennui thèse images served to create. Lady 



276 



MARRTAGB. 



Matilda Sufton, her satellite Mrs. Finch, General 
Carver, and a f ew stupid elderly lords and their 
well-bred ladies comprised the family circle ; and the 
Duchess experienced, with bitterness of spirit, that 
*' rest of heart, and pleasure felt at home/' are blessings 
wealth cannot purchase nor greatness command ; 
while she sickened at the stupid, the almost mtgar 
magnificence of her lot 

At this period Lord Lindore arrived on a visit, and 
ihe daily, hourly contrast that occurred betwizt the 
élégant, impassioned lover, and the dull, phlegmatic 
husband, could not fail of producing the usual effects 
on an unprincipled mind. Eousseau and Goethe were 
studied, French and German sentiments were ex- 
changed, till criminal passion was exalted into the 
purest of ail earthly emotiona It were tedious to 
dwell upon the minute, the almost imperceptible 
occurrences that tended to heighten the illusion of 
passion, and throw an air of false dignity around the 
degrading spells of vice ; but so it was, that in some- 
thing less than a year f rom the time of her marriage, 
this victim of self-indulgence again sought her hap- 
piness in the gratification of her own headstrong pas- 
sions, and eloped with Lord Lindore, vainly hoping 
to find peace and joy amid guilt and infamy. 




CHAPTEE XXXIL 

**0n n'est gnëres obligé aux gens qni ne nous viennent voir, 
que pour nous quereller, qui pendant toute une visite, ne nous 
disent pas une seule parole obligeante, et qui se font un plaisir 
malin d'attaquer notre conduite, et de nous faire entrevoir nos 
défauts." — L'Abbé db Belleoarde. 

The Duke, although not possessed of the most déli- 
cate feelings, it may be supposed was not insensible 
to his disbonour. He immediately set about taking 
tbe légal measures for avenging it ; and damages were 
awarded, wbich would bave tbe effect of rendering 
Lord Lindore for ever an alien to bis country. Lady 
Juliana raved, and bad bysterics, and seemed to con* 
aider berself as tbe only sufiFerer by ber daugbter's 
misconduct At one time Adelaide's ingratitude was 
ail ber tbeme: at anotber, it was Lord Lindore's 
treacbery, and poor Adelaide was everytbing tbat 
was amiable and injured: tben it was tbe Duke's 
obstinacy ; for, bad Adelaide got leave to do as sbe 
liked, this never would bave bappened ; bad sbe only 
got leave to give balls, and to go to masquerades, sbe 
would bave made tbe best wife in tbe world, eta 
etc. etc. 



278 MARBUGE. 

Ail thîs was wannly resented by Lady MatMa, 
supported by Mrs. Finch and General Carver, till 
open hostilitîes were declared between the ladies, and 
Lady Julîana was compelled to quît the house she had 
looked upon as next to her own, and became once 
more a denizen of Beech Park. 

Mary's grief and horror at her sister's misconduct 
were proportîoned to the nature of the offence. She 
consîdered it not as how it might afifect herself, or 
would be viewed by the world, but as a crime com- 
mitted against the law of God; yet, while she the 
more deeply deplored it on that account, no bitter 
words of condemnation passed her lips. She thought 
with humility of the superior advantages she had 
enjoyed in having principles of religion early and 
deeply engrafted in her soûl ; and that, but for thèse, 
such as her sister's fate was, hers might hâve been. 

She felt for her mother, undeserving as she was 
of commisération ; and strove by every means in her 
power to promote her comfort and happiness. But 
that was no easy task. Lady Juliana's notions of 
comfort and happiness dififered as widely from those 
of her daughter as reason and foUy could possibly do. 
She was indeed "than folly more a fool — ^a melan- 
choly fool without her bells." She still clung to low 
earth-bom vanities with as much ayidity as thoagh 
she had never experienced their insecurity ; still rung 
the same changes on the joys of wealth and grandeur, 
as if she had had actual proof of their unfading 
felicity. Then she recurred to the Duke^s obstinacy 



KABRIAGE. 279 

and Lord Lîndore's artifices, tîll, after having ex- 
hausted herself in invective against them, she con- 
cluded by comforting herself with the hope that Lord 
Lîndore and Adelaide would marry ; and although it 
wonld be a prodigious dégradation to her, and she 
could not be received at Court, she might yet get into 
very good society in town. There were many women 
of high rank exactly in the same situation, who had 
been driven to elope from their husbands, and who 
married the men they liked and made the best wives 
in the world. 

Mary heard ail this in shame and silence; but 
Lady Emily, wearied and provoked by her f olly and 
want of principle, was often led to express her indig- 
nation and contempt in terms which drew tears from 
her cousin's eyes. Mary was indeed the only person 
in the world who felt her sister's derelictîon with the 
keenest f eelings of shame and sorrow. Ail Âdelaide's 
coldness and unkindness had not been able to eradi- 
cate from her heart those deep-rooted sentiments of 
affection which seem to hâve been entwined with our 
existence, and which, with some gênerons natures, end 
but with their being. Yes ! there are ties that bind 
together those of one family, stronger than those of 
taste, or choice, or friendship, or reason; for they 
enable us to love, even in opposition to them alL 

It waa understood the fugitives had gone to Ger- 
many ; and after wonder and scandai were exhausted, 
and a divorce obtained, the Duchess of Altamont, 
except to her own family, was as though she had never 



280 MABRIAGE. 

been. Such is the transition from grandeur to guilt 
— ^from gnilt to insignificance ! 

Amongst the numerous visitors who flocked to 
Beech Park, whether from sympathy, or curiosityy or 
exultation, was Mrs. Downe Wright None of thèse 
motives, singlj, had brought that ladj there, for her 
purpose was that of giving what she genteelly termed 
Bome good hits to the Douglas's pride — a délicate mode 
of warfare, in which, it must be owned, the finale 
sex greatly exceL 

Mra Downe Wright had not f orgiven the indignity 
of her son having been refused by Mary, which she 
imputed entirely to Lady Emily's influence, and had 
from that moment predicted the downf ail of the whole 
pack, as she styled the family: at the same time 
Lays expressif her ^ thL' she ndght be nu. 
taken, as she wished them well — God knows she bore 
them no ill-will, etc. She entered the drawing-room 
at Beech Park with a countenance cast to a totally 
différent expression from that with which she had 
greeted Lady Matilda Sufton's widowhood. Melan- 
choly would there hâve been appropriate, hère it was 
insulting; and accordingly, with downcast eyes, and 
silent pressures of the hand, she saluted every member 
of the family, and inquired after their healths with 
that air of anxious solicitude which implied that if 
they vere ail well it was what they ought not to be. 
Lady Emily's quick tact was presently aware of her 
design, and she prepared to take the field against her. 

"I had some difficulty in getting admittance to 




MABBIAGE. 281 

you," said Mra Downe Wright " The servant would 
f aîn hâve denied you ; but at such a time, I knew the 
visît of a friend could not fail ôf being acceptable, so 
I made good my way in spite of him." 

" I had given orders to be at home to friends only," 
retumed Lady Emily, ** as there is no end to the in- 
roads of acquaintances." 

"And poor Lady Juliana," said Mrs. Downe 
Wright in a tone of affected sympathy, " I hope she 
is able to see her friends f 

"Did you not meet her?" asked Lady Emily care- 
lessly. " She is just gone to Bath for the purpose of 
securing a box during the tenu of Kean's engage- 
ment ; she would not trust to Péloquence du billet upon 
such an occasion." 

" Fm vastly happy to hear she is able for an3rthing 
of the kind," in a tone of véhément and overstrained 
joy, rather unsuitable to the occasion. 

A well-f eigned look of surprise from Lady Emily 
made her f ear she had overshot her mark ; she there- 
f ore, as if from delicacy, changed the conversation to 
her own afifairs. She soon contrived to let it be known 
that her son was going to be married to a Scotch 
Earl's daughter ; that she was to réside with them ; 
and that she had merely come to Bath for the purpose 
of lettîng her house — ^breaking up her establishment — 
packing up her plate — and, in short, making ail those 
magnificent arrangements which wealthy dowagers 
usually hâve to perf orm on a change of résidence. At 
the end of this triumphant déclaration, she added — 



282 MARRIAGE. 

" I faîn would hâve the young people lîve by them' 
selves, and let me just go on in my own way : but 
neitiher my son nor Lady Grâce would hear of that^ 
although her f amily are my son's nearest neighbours, 
and most sensible, agreeable people they are. Indeed, 
as I said to Lord Glenallan, a man's happiness dépends 
fully as much upon his wife's f amily as upon herself." 

Mary was too noble-minded to suspect that Mrs. 
Downe Wright could intend to level innuendoes ; but 
the allusion struck her ; she f elt herself blush ; and, 
fearful Mrs. Downe Wright would attribute it to a 
wrong motive, she hastened to join in the eulogium 
on the Benmavis f amily in gênerai, and Lady Orace 
in particular. 

"Lady Benmavis is, indeed, a sensible, well-prin- 
cipled woman, and her daughters hâve been ail well 
brought up." 

Âgaîn Mary coloured at the emphasis which marked 
the sensible, well-principled mother, and the well- 
brought-up daughters; and in some confusion she 
said something about Lady Grace's beauty. 

" She certainly is a very pretty woman," said Mrs. 
Downe Wright with affected carelessness ; "but what 
is better, she is out of a good nest For my own 
part I place little value upon beauty now ; commend 
me to principles. If a woman is without pnnciples 
the less beauty she has the better." 

"If a woman has no principles," said Lady Emily, 
^I don't think it signifies a straw whether she has 
beauty or not — ^ugliness can ne ver add to one's virtua 



MABRIAaE. 283 

"I beg your pardon, Lady Emily ; a plaîn woman 
will never make herself so conspicuous in the world 
as one of your beautiea" 

"Then you are of opinion wickedness lies ail in 
the eye of the world, not in the depths of the hearti 
Now I think the person who cherishes — no matter 
how secreily — pride, envy, hatred, malice, or any 
other besetting sin, must be quite as criminal in the 
sight of God as those who openly indulge their evil 
propensity." 

"I go very much by outward actions," said Mrs. 
Downe Wright ; " they are ail we hâve to judge 
by." 

"But I thought we were forbidden to judge one 
another ?" 

" There's no shutting people's mouths, Lady Emily." 

"No; ail that is required, I believe, is that we 
should shut our own." 

Mary thought the conversation was getting rather 
too piquante to be pleasant, and tried to sof ten the 
tone of it by asking that most innocent question, 
Whether there was any news % 

" Nothing bût about battles and fightings, I sup- 
pose," answered Mrs. Downe Wright " I*m sure they 
are to be pitied who hâve friends or relations either 
in army or navy at présent I hâve reason to be 
thankful my son is in neither. He was very much 
set upon going into one or other ; but I was always 
averse to it ; for, independent of the danger, they are 
professions that spoil a man lor domestic life ; they 



284 MABBUGE. 

lead to snch ezpensîve, dissîpated habits, as quite ruin 
them for familj men. I never knew a military man 
but what mufit hâve his bottle of port every day. 
With sailors, indeed, it's still worse ; grog and tobacco 
soon destroy them. l'm sure if I had a daughter it 
would make me misérable if she was to take a fancy 
to a naval or military man; — but," as if suddenly 
recollectîng herself, "after ail, perhaps it's a mère 
préjudice of mina" 

"By no means," said Lady Emily, "there is no 
préjudice in the matter ; what you say is very true. 
They are to be envied who can contrive to f ail in 
love with a stupid, idle man : they never can expéri- 
ence any anxiety; thm fate is fixed; *the waveless 
calm, the slumber of the dead,' is theirs ; as long as 
they can contrive to slumber on, or at least to keep 
their eyes shut, 'tis very well, they are in no danger 
of stumbling tûl they come to open them; and if 
they are sufficiently stupid themselves there is no 
danger of their doing even that They hâve only to 
copy the owl, and they are safa" 

"I quite agrée with your Ladyship," said Mra 
Downe Wright^ with a well got-up^ good-humoured 
laugL "A woman has only not to be a wit or a 
genius, and there is no f ear of her ; not that / hâve 
that antipathy to a clever woman that many people 
hâve, and especially the gentlemen. I ahnost quar- 
relled with Mr. Headley, the great author, t'other 
day, for saying that he would rather encounter a nest 
of wasps than a clever woman." 



MARKUGB. 285 

'*I should most côrdially hâve agreed with him," 
saîd Lady Emilj, with equal naivdé, ^' There is 
nothing more insupportable than one of your élever 
women, so^called. They are generally under-bred, 
consequently vulgar. They pique thernselves upon 
saying good things coûte qv!U coûte, There is some- 
thing, in short, quite professional about them; and 
they wouldn't condescend to chat nonsense as you 
and I are doing at this moment — oh ! not for worlds I 
Now, I think one of the great charms of life consists 
in taUdng nonsensa Good nonsense is an ezquisite 
thing ; and 'tîs an exquisite thing to be stupîd some- 
times, and to say nothing at alL Now, thèse enjoy- 
ments the dever woman must f orego. Clever she is, 
and clever she must ba Her life must be a greater 
drudgery than that of any actresa She merely frets 
her hour upon the stage; the curtain dropped, she 
may become as dull as she chooses; but the clever 
woman must always stage it, even at her own fire- 
sida" 

" Lady Emily lindore is certainly the last person 
f rom whom I should hâve expected to hear a paneg3rrîc 
on stupidity/' said Mra Downe Wright^ with some 
bittemesa 

"Stupîdityl — oh, heavens! my blood curdles at 
the thought of real, genuine, downrîght stupidity! 
No! I should always like to hâve the command of 
intellect^ as well as of money, though my taste, or 
my indolence, or my whim, perhaps, never would 
incline me to be always sparkling, whether in wit ox 



286 MABRIA6E. 

in diamonds. Twas only when I was in the nursery 
that I envied the good girl who spoke rubies and 
pearl& Now it seems to me only just better than 
not spitting toads and vipers." And she warbled a 
sprightly French ariette to a tame bullfinch that flew 
upon her hand. 

There was an airy, high-bred élégance in Lady 
Emily's impertinence that seemed to throw Mrs. 
Downe Wright's coarse sarcasms to an immeasurable 
dùrtance ; and that lady waa beginning to despair, but 
she was determined not to give in while she could 
possibly stand ont She accordingly rallied her forces, 
and tumed to Mary. 

"So you hâve lost your neighbour, Mrs..Ij6nnoz; 
since I was hère ? I think she was an acquaintance 
of yours. Poor woman ! her death must haye been 
a happy release to herself and her frïends. She has 
left no family, I believe?" quite aware of the report 
of Mary's engagement with Colonel^ennox. 

" Only one son," said Mary, with a little émotion. 

« Oh ! very traa He's in the law, I think r 

"In the army/' answered Mary, faintly. 

" That's a poor trade," said Mra Downe Wright^ 
" and I doubt hell not hâve much to mend it Sose 
Hall*s but a poor property. IVe heard they might 
hâve had a good estate in Scotland if it hadn't been 
for the pride of the General, that wouldn't let him 
change his name for it He thought it grander to be 
a poor Lennox than a rich Macnaughton, or some such 
nama It's to be hoped the son's of the same mind t** 



1 

\ 



KABRIAGE. 287 

" I have no doubt of it," said Lady Emîly. " His 
a noble name— quite a legacy in itself." 

*' It's one that, I am afraîd, will not be easily tumed 
into bank notes, however," retumed Mrs. Downc 
Wright, with a real hearfcy laugL And then, delighted 
to get off with what she called flying colours, she hastily 
rose with an exclamation at the lateness of the hour, 
and a remark how quickly time passed in pleasant 
Company; and, with friendly shakos of the hand, 
withdrew. 

"How very insupportable îs such a woman," said 
Lady Emily to Mary, " who, to gratify her own malice, 
says the most cutting things to her neighbours, and 
at the same time feels self-approbation, in the belief 
that she is doing good. Ând yet, hateful as she is, 
I blush to say I have sometimes been amused by her 
ill-nature when it was directed against people I hated 
still mora Lady Matilda Suf ton, for example, — there 
she certainly shone, for h3rpocrisy is always f air game ; 
and yet the people who love to hunt it are never 
amiable. You smile, as much as to say. Hère is Satan 
preaching a sermon on holiness. But however satiri- 
cal and intolérant you may think me, you must own 
that I take no delight in the discovery of other people's 
faults : if I want the meekness of a Christian, at least 
I don't possess the malice of a Jew. Now Mrs. Downe 
Wright has a real heartf elt satisfaction in saying mali- 
cious things, and in thrusting herself into company 
where she must know she is unwelcome, for the sole 
purpose of saying them. Yet many people are blessed 



288 HARRIAOS. 

with snch blunt perceptions that they are not at ail 
aware of her real character, and only wonder, when 
she bas left them, what made them feel so uncomfort- 
able wken she was présent But she has put me in 
such a bad humour that I must go out of doors and 
apostrophise the sun, like Lucifer. Do come, Mary, 
you will help to dispel my chagrin. I really feel as 
if my heart bad been in a limekiln. AU its kindly 
f eelings are so bumt up by the malignant influences 
of Mrs. Downe Wright; while you," continued she, 
as they stroUed into the gardons, " are as cool, and as 
sweet^ and as sorrowful as thèse violets," gathering 
some still wet with an Âprîl shower. " How delicious, 
after such a mental sirocco^ to feel the pure air, and 
hear the birds sing, and look upon the flowers and 
blossoms, and sit hère, and bask in the sun from lazi- 
ness to walk into the shade. You must needs acknow- 
ledge, Mary, that spring in England is a much more 
amiable season than in your ungentle clima" 

This was the second spring Mary had seen set in, 
in England. But the first had been wayward and 
backward as the seasons of her native climate. The 
présent was such a one as poets love to paint Nature 
was in ail its first freshness and beauty — ^the ground 
was covered with flowers, the luxuriant hedgerows 
were white with blossoms, the air was impregnated 
with the odours of the gardons and orchards. Still 
Mary sighed as she thought of Lochmarlie — ^its wild 
tangled woods, with hère and there a bunch of prim- 
roaes peeping forth from amidst moss and withered 



MABBIAGE. 289 

fem— its gargUng rills, blue lakes, and rocks, and 
mountaîns — ail rose to view ; and she f elt that, even 
amid fairer scènes, and beneath brîghter sons, her 
heart would stîll tum wiih fond regret to the land 
of her birth. 



VOL. Il V 



f 



1 



OHAPTEB XXXra. 

" Wondroos it is, to see in diverse mindes 
How dîversly Loye doth his pageants plaj 
And shows his power in Tariahle kinds." 

SPBNnOL 

But even the charms of spring were overlooked by 
Lady Emily in the superior delight she experienced 
at hearing that the ship in which Edward Douglas 
was had arrived at Portsmouth ; and the intelligence 
was soon followed by his own arrivai at Beech Park 
He was received by her with rapture, and by Mary 
with the tenderest émotion. Lord Courtland was 
always glad of an addition to the family party ; and 
even Lady Juliana ezperienced something like émo- 
tion as she l^eheld her son, now the exact image of 
what his father had been twenty years befora 

Edward Douglas was indeed a perfect model of 
youthf ul beauty, and possessed of ail the high spirits 
and happy msoucia7u:e which can only charm at that 
early period. He loved his profession, and had already 
distinguished himself in it He was handsome, brave, 
good-hearted, and good-humoured, but he was not 
dever; and Mary felt some solicitude as to the per- 




MARRIAGE. 291 

manency of Lady Emily's attachment to hîm. But 
Lady Emily, quîck-sighted to the defects of the whole 
world, seemed happily blind to those of her lover; 
and when even Mary's spirîts were almost exhausted 
by his noisy rattle, Lady Emily, charmed and exhîla- 
rated, entered into ail his practical jokes and boyish ^ 
frolics with the greatest delight 

She soon perceired what was passîng in Mary's 
mind. 

" I see perf ectly well what you think of my penchant 
for Edward," said she one day ; " I can tell you exactly 
what was passing in your thoughts just now. You 
were thinking how strange, how passing strange it is, 
that I, who am (false modesty avaunt!) certainly 
cleverer than Edward, should yet be so partial to him, 
and that my lynx eyes should hâve f ailed to discover 
in him faults which, with a single glance, I should 
hâve detected in others. Now, can't you guess what 
rendors even thèse very faults so attractive to me ) " 

" The old story, I suppose ? " said Mary. " Love." 

"Not at alL Love might blind me to his faults 
altogether, and then my case would be indeed hope- 
less, were I Hving in the belief that I was loving a 
pièce of perfection — a sort of ApoUo Belvidere in 
mind as well as in person. Now, so far from that, 
I could reckon you up a whole catalogue of his faults; 
and nevertheless, I love him with my whole heart^ 
faults and alL Li the first place, they are the faults 
with which I hâve been f amiliar from inf ancy ; and 
therefore they possess a charm (to my shame be it 



292 MABRIAOS. 

said !) greater than other people's virtaes would baye 
to ma They corne over my fancy like some snatch 
of an old nursery song, whîch one loves to hear in de- 
fiaiice of taste and reason, merely becauae it is some- 
thîng that cames us back to those days which, what- 
ever they were in reality, always look brîght and 
sunny in retrospection. In the second place, bis f aults 
are real, genuine, natural faults ; and in this âge of 
affectation how ref resbing it is to meet witb even a 
natural f ault ! I grant you, Edward talks absurdly, 
and asks questions à faire dresser les ckevettx of a Mrs. 
Bluemits. But tbat amuses me ; for bis ignorance is 
not tbe ignorance of vulgarity or stupidity, but the 
ignorance of a ligbt bead and a merry beart — of one, 
in short, wbose understanding bas been at sea when 
other people's were at scbool His bon mots certainly 
would not do to be printed ; but then they make me 
laugh a great deal more than if they were better, for 
be is always naïf and original, and I prefer an indif- 
fèrent original any day to a good copy. How it 
shocks me to bear people recommending to their 
cbildren to copy such a person's manners ! A copied 
manner, how insupportable ! Tbe servile imitator of 
a set pattern, how despicable I No ! I would rather 
bave Edward in ail tbe freshness of his own faults 
than in the faded semblance of another person's pro- 
prieties." 

Mary agreed to the truth of her cousîn's observa- 
tions in some respects, though she could not help 
thinking that love bad as much to say in her case as 




MAlUilAGE. 293 

in most others; for if it did not blind her to her 
lover's faults, it certainly made her much more tolér- 
ant of them. 

Edward was, in tnith, at tîmes almost proYokingly 
bojdsh and unthinking, and possessed a flow of animal 
spirits as inexhaustible as they were sometimes over- 
powering ; but she flattered herself time would subdue 
tbem to a more ratîonal tone; and she longed for 
his having the advantages of Colonel Lennoz's society 
— ^not by way of pattem, as Lady Emily expressed 
it, but that he might be gradually led to something 
of more refinement, from holding intercourse with a 
superîor mind. Ând she obtained her wish sooner 
than she had dared to hope for it That battle was 
f ought which dedded the fate of Europe, and tumed 
80 many swords into ploughshares ; and Mary seemed 
now touching the pinnacle of happiness when she saw 
her loyer restored to her. He had gained additional 
renown in the bloody field of Waterloo ; and, more 
fortunate than others, his military career had termin- 
ated both gloriously and happily. 

If Mary had ever distrusted the reality of his 
affection, ail her doubts were now at an end. She saw 
she was beloved with ail the truth and ardour of a 
noble ingenuous mind, too upright to deceive others, 
too enlightened to deceive itself. Ail reserve betwixt 
them was now at an end; and, secure in mutual 
affection, nothing seemed to oppose itself to their 
happiness. 

Colonel Lennox's fortune was small ; but such as it 



294 MABRUGS. 

was, it seemed sufficient for ail the purposes of rational 
enjoyment. Both were aware ihat wealth is a relative 
tihing, and that the positîyely rich are not those who 
hâve the largest possessions bat those who haye the 
fewest vain or selfish desires to gratify. From theçe 
they were happily exempt Both possessed too many 
resources in their own minds to reqnire the stîmolas 
of spending money to rouse them into enjoyment^ or 
give them additional importance in the eyes of the 
world; and, above ail, both were too thoronghly 
Christian in their principles to mormur at any sacri- 
fices or privations they might hâve to endure in the 
course 0? their earthlypfl^mage. 

But Lady Juliana's weak, worldly mind, saw things 
in a very différent light ; and when Colonel Lennoz, 
as a matter of f orm, applied to her for her consent 
to their union, he received a positive and angiy re- 
fusai She declared she never would consent to any 
daughter of hers making so foolish, so very unsuitable 
a marriage. And then, sending for Mary, she charged 
her, in the most peremptory manner, to break off ail 
intercourse with Colonel Lennox 

Poor Mary was overwhelmed with grief and amaze- 
ment at this new display of her mother's tyranny and 
injustice, and used ail the powers of reasoning and 
entreaty to alter her sentiments ; but in vain. Since 
Adelaide's elopement Lady Juliana had been much in 
want of some subject to occupy her mind — something 
to excite a sensation, and give her something to com- 
plain of, and talk abouti and put her in a bustle» and 




XABBUOX. S95 

make her angiy, and alarmed, and ill-used, and, in 
short, ail the things which a f ool is fond of beîng. 

Although Mary had little hopes of being able to 
prevaQ hy any efforts of reason, she yet tried to make 
her mother comprehend the nature of her engagement 
with Colonel Lennox as of a sacred nature, and too 
binding ever to be dîssolved. But Lady Juliana's 
wrath blazed forth with redoubled violence at the 
very mention of an engagement She had never 
heard of anything so improper. Colonel Lennox 
must be a most unprincipled man to lead her daughter 
into an engagement unsanctioned by her; and she 
had acted in the most improper manner in allowing 
herself to f orm an attachment without the consent of 
those who had the best title to dispose of her. The 
person who could act thus was not fît to be trusted, 
and in future it would be necessary for her to hâve 
her constantly under her own eya 

Mary f ound her candeur had theref ore only reduced 
her to the alternative of either openly rebelling, or of 
submitting to be talked at, and watched, and guarded, 
as if she had been detected in carrying on some im- 
proper clandestine intercourse. But she submitted to 
ail the restrictions that were imposed and the tor- 
ments that were inflicted, if not with the heroism of 
a martyr, at least with the meekness of one ; for no 
murmur escaped her lips. She was only anxious to 
conceal from others the extent of her mother's folly 
and injustice, and took every opportunity of entreat- 
ing Colonel Lennox's silence and forbearance. It 



296 ICABRIÂQX. 

required, indeed, ail her influence to induce bim to 
submit patdently to the treatment he ezperienced. 
Lady Juliana had so often repeated to Mary that it 
was the greatest presumption in Colonel Lennox to 
aspire to a daughter of hers, that she had faîrly talked 
herself into the belief that he was ail she asserted hinri 
to be — a man of neither birth nor fortune — certainly 
a Scotsman from his name — consequently havîng 
thousands of poor cousins and vulgar relations of 
every description. Ând she was determined that no 
daughter of hers should ever marry a man whose 
family connections she knew nothing about She 
had suflered a great deal too much from her (Mary's) 
f ather's low relations ever to run the risk of anjrthing 
of the same kind happening again. In short, she at 
length made it ont clearly, to her own satisfactioni 
that Colonel Lennox was scarcely a gentleman ; and 
she theref ore considered it as her duty to treat him 
on eveiy occasion with the most marked rudeness. 
Colonel Lennox pitied her f oUy too much to be hurt 
by her ill-breeding and malevolence, but he could 
scarcely reconcile it to his notions of duty that 
Mar/s superior mind should submit to the thraldom 
of one who evidently knew not good from eviL 

Lady Emily was so much engrossed by her own 
aflairs that for some tîme ail this went on unnoticed 
by her. At length she was struck with Mary's déjec- 
tion, and observed that Colonel Lennox seemed also 
dispirited ; but, imputing it to a lover's quarrel, she 
laughingly taxed them with it. Although Mary could 



SIABRIAGE. 297 

snppiess the cause of her uneasiness, she was too in^ 
genuous to deny it ; and, being pressed by her cousm, 
ahe at length disclosed to her the cause of her sorrow. 
" Colonel Lennox and you hâve behaved like two 
fools," said she, at the end of her cousîn's communica- 
tion. "What could possibly instigate you to so 
absurd an act as that of asking Lady Juliana's con- 
sent î You surely might hâve known that the person 
who is never consulted about anything will invariably 
start di£G[culties to everything ; and that people who 
are never accustomed to be even listened to get quito 
unmanageable when appealed to. Lady Juliana gave 
an immédiate assent to Lord Glenallan's proposais 
Decause she was the first person consulted about them; 
and besides, she had a sort of an instinctive know* 
ledge that it would croate a sensation and make her 
of conséquence — in short, she was to act in a sort of 
triple capacity, as parent, lover, and bride. Hère, 
on the contrary, she was aware that her consent 
would stand as a mère cipher, and, once given, would 
never be more heard ol Liberty of opinion is a 
latitude many people quite lose themselves in. When 
once they attempt to think, it makes confusion worse 
conf ounded ; so it is much better to take that labour 
off their hands, and settle the matter for them. It 
would hâve been quite time enough to hâve asked 
Lady Juliana's consent after the thing was over ; or, 
at any rate, the minute before it was to take plaça 
I would not even hâve allowed her time for a flood of 
teara or a fit of hystéries. And now that your duty 



298 iCÀBBrAaE: 

hais lm)aght you to this, even mj genins is at a loss 
how to extricate you. Gretna Green might bave been 
advisable, and that would bave accorded witb your 
notions of duty ; tbat would bave been f oUowing your 
mainma's own f ootsteps ; but it is become too vulgar 
an exploit I read of a batter's apprentice baving 
carried off a grocer's beiress t'otber day. Wbat do 
you porpose doing yourself ?" 

'^To try tbe effect of patience and submission," 
saîd Mary, ''rather tban openly set at défiance one 
of tbe most sacred duties — ^tbe obédience of a cbild to 
a parant Besides, I could not possibly be bappy were 
I to marry under sucb circumstances." 

'^ You bave mucb too nice a conscience^" said Lady 
Ëmily ; '* and yet I could scarcely wisb you otberwise 
tban you ara Wbat an angel you are, to bebave as 
you do to sucb a mother ; witb sucb sweetness, and 
geniileness, and eyen respect 1 Âb I tbey know little 
of baman nature wbo tbink tbat to perf orm great 
actions one must necessarily be a great cbaracter. So 
far fiom tbat, I now see tbere may be mucb more 
real greatness of mind displayed in tbe quiet ténor 
of a woman's lif e tban in tbe most biilliant exploits 
tbat ever were performed by man. Methinks I 
myself could help to storm a city; but to ruie my 
own spirit is a task beyond me. Wbat a pity it is 
you and I cannot cbange places. Hère am I, languisb« 
ing for a little opposition to my love. My marriage 
wili be quite an insipid, every-day affair; I yawn 
already to tbink of it. Can anything be more dis- 



beaTtemng to a young couple, ansjous ta 8%nalîse 
their attachment in the face of the whole world, than 
to be allowed to tpJce their own way ? Conçoive my 
irezatioii at beîng told by papa this moming that he 
liad not the least objection to Edward and me marry- 
mg whenever we pleased, although he thought we 
might both hâve done better ; but that was our own 
affair, not bis ; that he thought Edward a fine, good* 
hmnoured feUow— excessively amusing; hoped he 
would get a ship' aome day, although he had no 
interest whatever in the, Admiralty; was sorry he 
could not give us any money, but hoped we should 
remain at Beech Park as long aâ we liked I really 
feel quite fiât with ail thèse duU affinnation&'* 

"Whatl you had rather bave been locked up in 
a tower — ^wrix^ng your hands at the height of the 
Windows, the thickness of the walls, aad so forth," said 
Mary. 

''No : I should never bave done anything so like a 
washerwoman as to wring my hands ; though I mi^t^ 
like some heroines, haye f allen to woric in a regular 
blacksmith-way, by examining the lock of the door, 
and perhaps bave succeeded in picking it ; but^ alas ! 
I live in degenerate days. Oh that I had been bom 
the pevsecuted daughter of some ancienit baron bold 
instead of the spoiled child of a good natured modem 
earl ! Heavens ! to think that I must tamely, abjectly 
submit to be married in the présence of ail my f amily, 
eren in the very paiish church 1 Oh, what detracti(m& 
from tbe biilliancy of my star T 



300 ICABBIAGX. 

In spite of her levity Lady Emily was serioasiy iii> 
terested in her cousîn'B affairs, and tried every means 
of obtaimng Lady Jaliana's consent ; but Lady Juliana 
was become more unmanageable than ever. Her 
temper, always bad, was now soured by chagrin and 
disapp^inionent into «omething. if posdble, stSworse, 
and Lady Emily^s authority had no longer any control 
over her ; even the threat of producing Aunt Grizzy 
to a brilliant assembly had now lost its effect Dr. 
Redgfllwaa lie only auxilkry she possessed in the 
family, and he most cordially joined her in condemn- 
ing Miss Maiy's obstinacy and infatuation. What 
could she see in a man with such an insignificant bit 
of property, a mère nest for blackbirds aijd linnets, 
and such sort of vermin. Not a morsel of any sort of 
game on his grounds ; while at Glenallan, he had been 
credibly inf ormed, such was the abundance that the 
deer had been seen stalking and the black-cock flyÎDg 
past the very doorl But the Doctor's indignation 
was suddenly suspended by a fit of apoplexy ; from 
whioh, however, he rallied, and passed it off for the 
présent as a sort of vertigo, in conséquence of the 
shock he had received at hearing of Miss Mai^s mi^ 
conduct 

At length eyen Colonel Lennox's forbearance was 
ezhausted, and Mary's health and spirits were sinking 
beneath the conflict she had to maîntain, when a 
sudden reyolution in Lady Juliana's plans caused also 
a révolution in her sentiments. This was occasioned 
by a letter from Adelaide, now Lady Lindore. It 




ICASBIAGE. 301 

was evidently written under the influence of melan 
clioly and discontent; and, as Lady Emily said, no- 
thing could be a stronger proof of poor Adelaide's 
wretchedness than her expressîng a wish that her 
mother should join her in the South of France, where 
she was going on account of her health. 

Adélaïde was indeed one of the many melancholy 
proofs of the effects of headstrong passions and per- 
verted principles. Lord Lindore had married her 
from a point of honour; and although he possessed 
too much refinement to treat her ill, yet hisindiffer- 
ence was not the less cuttîng to a spirit haughty as 
her& Like many others, she had yainly imagined 
that, in renouncing virtue itself for the man she 
loved, she was for ever ensuring his boundless grati- 
tude and adoration; and she only awoke from her 
delusiye dream to flnd herself friendless in a foreign 
land, an outcast from society, an object of indiffér- 
ence even to him for whom she had abandoned alL 

But Lady Juliana would see nothing of ail this. 
She was charmed at what she termed this proof of 
her daughter's aflFection, in wishing to hâve her with 
her; and the prospect of going abroad seemed like 
a vision of paradise to her. Instant préparations were 
made for her departure, and in the bustle attendant 
on them, Mary and her afiPairs sank into utter insigni- 
ficanca Indeed, she seemed rather anxious to get 
her disposed of in any way that might prevent her 
interf ering with her own plans ; and a consent to her 
marrîage, such as it was, was easily obtained. 



302 MARRIAOE. 

"Marry whom you please," saîd she; "only 
remember I am not responsible for the conséquences. 
I hâve always told you what a wretched thing a love- 
marriage is, therefore you are not to blame me for 
your future misery." 

Mary readily subscribed to the conditions ; but, sis 
she embraced her mother at parting, she timidly 
whispered a hope that she would ever consider her 
house as her home. Â smile of contempt was the 
only reply she received, and they parted never more 
to meet Lady Juliana found foreign manners and 
principles too congenial to her tastes ever to retum 
to Britaio. 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 

"0 most gentle Jupiter ! what tedious homily of love hâve 
jou wearied jour parishioners withal, and nevdr tfiadf Hâve 
j^ien4:e, goodpeapUr ^, ^^ ^^ j^ 

The onlj obstacle to her union thus removed, Maiy 
thought she might now ventore to lot her Aunt 
Gnzzy into thfi secret; and accordingly, with some 
little embarrassment, she made the disclosure of the 
mutilai attaehmentsubsisting between Colonel Le^nos: 
and heisell Gnzzy received the communication with 
ail the astonishment which ladies usually expérience 
upon being made acquainted with a marriage which 
they had not had the prescience to f oresee and fore- 
tell — or eyen one which they had ; for, common and 
natural as the event seems to be, it is one which 
perhaps in no instance ever took place without 
occasioning the greatest amazement to some one 
indiyidual or another ; and it will also be generally 
faund that either the good or the bad fortune of one 
or other of the parties is the subject of universal 
wonder. In short, a marriage which excites no sur- 
prise, pity, or indignation, must be something that 
has never yet been witnessed on the face of this round 



304 IfÀSBIAGE. 

worli It is greatly to be feared none of my readers 
wîll sympathise in the f eelîngs of the good spinster on 
this occasion, as she poured them forth in the f ollow- 
ing extempore or m^ovisatariai strain : — 

" Well, Mary, I déclare l'm perfectly conf ounded 
with ail you hâve been telling me ! l'm sure I never 
heard the like of it 1 It seems but the fDther day 
since you began your sampler ; and it looks just like 
yesterday since your father and mother were married. 
Ând such a work as there was at your nursing 1 l'm 
sure your poor grandfather was out of ail patience 
about itw And now to think that you are going to be 
married I not but what it's a thing we ail ezpected 
for there's no doubt England's the place for young 
women to get husbands — we always said that^ ycfu 
know ; not but what I daresay you might hâve been 
married, too, if you had stayed in the Highlands, and 
to a real Highlander, too, which, of course, wouldhave 
been still better for us ail ; for it will be a sad thing 
if you are obliged to stay in England, Mary ; but I 
hope there's no chance of that : you know Colonel 
Lennoz can easily sell his place, and bny an estate in 
the Highlands. There's a charming property, I know 
to be sold just now, that marches with Glenfem. To 
be sure it's on the wrong side of the hill — ^there's no 
denying that ; but then, there's I can't tell you how 
many thousand acres of fine muir for shooting, and I 
daresay Colonel Lennox is a keen sportsman; and 
they say a great deal of it might be very much im- 
proved. We must really inquire after it, Mary, and 



MARRIAGS. 305 

you mnfit speàk to Colonel Lennoz about it, for jou 
know such a property as that may be snapped up in 
a minuta" 

Mary assented to àll that was said; and Grizzy 
proceeded — 

^'I wonder you never brought Colonel Lennoz to 
see U8^ Mary. l'm sure he must think it yery odd. 
To be sure, Sir Sampson's situation is some excuse ; 
but at any rate I wonder you never spoke about him. 
We ail f ound out your Âunt Bella's attachment from 
the very first, just from her constantly speaking about 
Major M^ayish and the militia; and we had a good 
guess of Bets/s too, from the day her face tumed so 
red after giving Captain M'Nab for her toast; but 
you hâve really kept yours yery close, for I déclare I 
never once suspected such a thing. I wonder if that 
was Colonel Lennoz that I saw you part with at the 
door one day — ^tall, and with brown hair, and a blue 
coat I asked Lady Maclaughlan if she knew who 
it was, and she said it was Admirai Benbow; but 
I think she must hâve been mistaken, for I daresay 
now it was just Colonel Lennoz. Lennoz — l'm sure 
I should be able to remember something about some- 
body of that name ; but my memory's not so good as 
it used to be, f or I hâve so many things, you know, 
to think about, with Sir Sampson, that I déclare 
sometimes my head's quite confused ; yet I think 
always there's something about them. I wish to good- 
ness Lady Maclaughlan was come from the dentistes, 
that I might consult her about it ; for of course, Mary, 

VOL. IL X M» 



306 1CA!RSIAC«. 

yonll do noihmg irithont consultmg ail yoiir ftiendEi 
— I know 70a Ve toomuch sensé for that And faere's 
Sir Sampson coming ; ît will be a fine pièce of news 
to teU him." 

Sir Sampson having been now wheeled in hj Hk^ 
•tdll active Philistine, and properly arrangea wiih the 
assistance of Miss Griz^, she took her usual station by 
the side of his easy chair, and began ta shout into bis ear. 

^' Here's my nieee Mary, Sir Sampson ; yon remem- 
ber her when she was little, I daresay — you know yen 
nsed to call her the f airy of LochmarUe ; and l'm sore 
we ail thought for long she would bave been a peif ect 
f aby, she was so little ; but she's taU enough now, you 
see, and sho'sgoing to be mamed to a fine yonng man. 
None ci us know hiip yet, but I think I mnst hare 
seen him ; andat any late Tm to see him to-morrow, 
and youll see him. too, Sir Sampson, for Mary is to 
bring him to call hère, and he'll tell you ail about the 
battle of Waterloo, and the Highlanders; for he's 
half a Highlandér too, and Tm certain he'U bny tihe 
Dhoanbog estate, and then, when my nieoe Mary 
marries Colonel Lenno x ■ " 

^^Lennox!" repeated Sir Sampson, his little âhn 
eyes kindling at the name — '' Who talks of Lennoz) 
— ^I — ^I won't sufier it Where's. my Lady 1 Lennox ! 
— ^he's a scomidrel! Toa shan't maxry a Lennoxl" 
Tuming to Grizzy, ''Call Philistine, and my Lady." 
And his agitation was so great that eyen Qiâzsy, 
alihough accustomed for f orty yearo to witness aimilar 
ebnllition% became alaimed. 



KASKIAOl. 807 

•*Toti see ît's ail for fear of my marryîng," wim- 
pered she to Mary. ^l'm sure such a disinterested 
attachment, it*s impossible for me ever to repay it !" 

Then tuming to Sir Sampson, she songht to soothe 
his perturbation by oft-repeated assurances that it 
was not her but her nièce Mary that was going to be 
married to Colonel Lennox. But in vam ; Su- Samp- 
son quivered, ànd panted, and muttered; and the 
louder Grizzy screamed out the truth the more his 
irritation increased. Eecourse was now had to Philiieh 
tine; and Mary, thoroughly ashamed of the éclat 
attending the disclosure of her secret, and finding she 
could be of no use, stole away in the midst of Miss 
6riz2y's endless verbiage; but as she descended the 
stairs she still heard the same assurance resounding 
' — "I can assure you. Sir Sampson, it's not me, but 
my nièce Mary that's going to be married to Colonel 
Lennox," eta 

On retumîng to Beech Park she said nothing of 
what had passed either to Lady Emily or Colonel 
Lennox — ^aware of the amusement it would f umish to 
both; and she felt that her aunt required ail the 
dignity with which she could invest her bef ore pre- 
senting her to her future nephew. The only delay 
to her marriage now rested with herself ; but she was 
désirons it should take place under the roof which 
had sheltered her infancy, and sanctioned by the 
présence of those whom she had ever regarded as 
her parents. Lady Emily, Colonel Lennox, and her 
brother had ail endeavoured to combat this resolution, 



808 KAJBSIAffË, 

but in yain; and it was therefoie settled fhat she 
should remaîn to witness the union of her brother 
and her cousin, and then retum to Lochmarlia But 
ail Mary's preconceived plans were threatened with 
a downf ail by the receipt of the f ollowing letter from 
Miss Jacky^— 

GlBNTBBN GASTLE, ■ BHIBB^ Jwis 19, 181-. 

" It is impossible for kmguage to express to yau the 
shame, grief, amazement^ and indignaiianf with whkh 
we are oS mied at the distreasÎDg, tiie tgmtrmùm 
disdosure that has jnsi taken place conceming you, 
ihrough our most excdUfni fiiend Miss P. MTry. Oh, 
Mary, hùw bave you deceived us ail 1 ! ! What a dagger 
hâve you plunged into aU our hearts ! Your foar 
Aunt Orizzy / how my heœri bleeds for her ! What a 
difficult part has she to act ! and at her Urne of lif e I 
with her acute fedmgs / with her devoted attadiment 
to the hotise of M^Laughlanl What a Kow/ and a 
hlowfrom your ha/nd/ Oh, Mary, I fnttô^againrepeat» 
how ha/ve you deceived xisàll/// Yet do not imagine 
I mean to reproach you ! Much, much of the blâme 
is douMess imputable to the errors of yotar éducation ! 
At the same time, even thèse offer no justification of 
your condud upon the présent occasion I You are 
now (I lament to say it 1) corne to that time of Ufe 
when you ought to know whai is right ; or, where you 
entertain any doubts, you ought mosi unquestionably 
to aipply to those toho, you may be certain, are well 
qualified to direct you. Bui^ instead of that^ you 




lliBRUGE. 809 

hâve pursued a dîametrîcally opposite plan: a plan 
which migM hâve ended in yoor destruction! Oh, 
Mary, / cannot too ofkn repeat^ how hâve you deceived 
us ail 11 ! From no lijps but those of Miss MTry imuld 
I hâve believed uhaù I hâve heard, videlicet, that you 
(oh, Mary !) hâve, for many, many months past, been 
carrying on a clandestine correspondence with a yowng 
man, unknown, unsuspected by ail your frîends hère ! 
and that young man, the very last man on the face of 
the ea/rth whom you, or any of W5, ought to hâve given 
our oountenance to I The very man, in âwrt^ whom 
we were ail tomndy by every principle of duty, gratitude, 
and esteem, to hâve shunned, and who you are hotmdf 
from this momenty to renounce for ever. How you 
ever came to be acquainted tuUh Colonel Charles 
Lennox of Sose Hall is a mystery none of us can 
fathom; but surely the person, whoever it was that 
Irought it about, has much, much to answer for ! Mrs. 
Douglas (to whom I thougU it proper to mdke an 
immédiate ammmriicaiion on the subject) prétends to 
hâve been well informed of ail that has been going on, 
and even însists that your acquaintance ivUh the Lennox 
family took place through Lady M^Laughlan! BtU 
that we dl know to be mordly impossible. Lady 
MŒjaughlan is the very last person in the toorld who 
would hâve vniroduced you, or any yowng créature for 
whom she had the digUest regard, to a Lennox, the 
mortcd enemy of the M^Laughlan race ! I most siticerdy 
trust she is spared the shock we hâve ail experienced 
at this painful disdosure, With her high principles. 



31ft MABBUGE. 

and' gréai regard for us, I tremble to think whai mi^t 
be the conséquences 1 And dear Sir Sampson, in his 
délicate state, how vmild he ever be able to stcmd such 
a blow ! and a blow, too, from your hand^ Mary ! ypu, 
wbo he vxis always like a f ather to ! Many a time, I 
am sure, hâve you sat upon bis hnee ; and you certaînly 
canruyt bave forgot the dega/ni Shetland pony he pre- 
sented you wUh the day you was five years old 1 and 
whai a retum for such faveurs ! 

''But I fondly trust it is not yet too late. You 
bave (mly to give up this unworthy attachment, and 
ail wUl be forgotten and forgwm; and we will ail 
reçoive you as if nething had happened Oh, Maiy l 
I must, for the last time repeat^ how bave you deceived 

^I am your distressed aunt, 

"JOANDOTJGLAa 

**P.S, — ^I condude abruptly, in order to leave room 
ior your Âunt Nicky to date her sentiments also on 
this most afflicting subject" 

Nîcky's appendix was as follows :— 

''Deak Mary — Jacky bas read her letter to ua. 
It is most excellent We are ail much afifected by it 
Not a Word but deserves to be printed. I can add 
nothing. You see, if you marry Colonel L. none of 
us can be at your marriage. How could we 1 I hope 
you will think twice about it Second thoughts are 
beat What's done cannot be undon& — ^Yours, 

"N, D." 



MABBIAQIL &I1 

Mary felt'eomewhat in the sitaation of the deeper 
awakaned, as she perused thèse mysterious anathemas; 
and rubbed her eyes more than once in hopes of dis- 
palling the mist that she thought must needs be upon 
them. But in vain : it seemed only to increase wiHi 
every effort she made to remove it Not a single ray 
of light f ell on the palpable obscure of Miss Jacky's 
composition, that could enable her to penetrate the 
dark prof ound that encompassed her. She was aware, 
indeed, that when her aunt meant to be pathetio or 
energetic she always had xecourse to the longest and 
the strongest words she could possibly lay her hands 
upon ; and Mary had been well accustomed to hear 
her childish faults and juvénile indiscrétions denoonced 
in the most awf ul tenus as crimes of the deepest dje. 
Many an exordium she had listened to on the tearing 
of her frock, or the losing of her glove, that might 
hâve served as a préface to the " Newgate Calendar," 
" Colquhoun on the Police," or any other register of 
crimes. StiU she had always bêen able to detect 
some due to her own misdeeds ; but hère even con- 
jecture was baffled, and in vain she sought for some 
resting-place for her imagination, in the probable 
misdemeanour of her lover. But even allowing ail 
possible latitude for Jaçky-s pen, she was forced to 
acknowledge there must be some grqund for her aunt 
to build upon. Superficiel as her structures generally 
were, like children's card-houses, they had always 
something to rest upon; though (unlike them) hei 
créations were invariably upon a gigantic scale. 



312 ICÀBBUGE. 

Mary had of ten reflected with surprise that, alUiOTigh 
Lady Maclaughian had been the person to introduce 
her to Mrs. Lennox, no intercourse had taken place 
betw een the families thernselves ; and when she had 
mentîoned them to each other Mrs. Lennox had only 
sighed, and Lady Maclaughian had humphed. She 
despaîred of arriving at the knowledge of the truth 
from her aunta GrîzzVs brain wa3 a mère wisp of 
contradictions; and Ja^s mind wa. of that vioLt 
hue that cast its own shade upon every object that 
came in contact with it. To mention the matter to 
Colonel Lennox was only to make her relations ridi- 
culous ; and, in short^ although it «ras a formidable 
step, the resuit of her délibération was to go to Lady 
Maclaughian, and request a solution of her aunt's dark 
sayings. She therefore departed for Milsom Street, 
and, upon entering the drawing-room, found Grizzy 
alone, and evidenlly m even more than usual per- 
turbation. 

"Oh, Mary !" cried she, as her nièce entered, "Fm 
sure l'm thankful you're corne. I was just wishing 
for you. You can't think how much mischief your 
yesterda/s yisit has don& It's a thousand pitiés, I 
déclare, that erer you saîd a word abont your mar- 
riage to Sir Sampson. But of course I don't mean to 
blâme you, Mary. You know you couldn*t help it ; 
so don't vex yourself, for you know that will not 
màke the thing any better now. Only if Sir Samp 
son should die — to be sure I must always think it 
was that that killed him ; and l'm sure that wiU soon 



MARBIAGB. 813 

idll me too — such a frîend — oh, Mary!" Hère a 
burst of grief choked poor Miss Grizz/s utterance. 

"My dear aunt," said Mary, "you certaîiily must 
be mistaken. Sir Sampson seems to retaîn no recol- 
lectîon of me. It is theref ore impossible that I could 
cause him any pain or agitation." 

" Oh certainly ! " said Grizzy. " There's no doubt 
Sir Sampson has qoite forgot yon, Mary — and no 
wonder — ^with your being so long away ; but I dare- 
say hell come to know you yet But Fm sure I hope 
to goodness hell never know you as Mrs. Lennox, 
Mary. That would break his heart altogether; for 
you know the Lennoxes hâve always been the greatest 
enemies of the Maclaughlans, — and of course Sir 
Sampson can't bear anybody of the name, which is 
quite naturaL And it was very thoughtless in me to 
hâve forgot that tiU Philistine put me in mind of it, 
and poor Sir Sampson has had a very bad night; so 
Fm sure I hope, Mary, youH never think any more 
about Colonel Lennox; and, take my word for it^ 
youll get plenty of husbands yet Now, since there's 
a peace, there will be plenty of fine young officers 
coming homa There's young Balquhadan, a captaîn, 
I know, in some régiment; and there's Dhalahulish, 

and Lochgrunason, and ^" But Miss Grizz/s ideas 

hère shot out into so many ramifications upon the 
différent branches of the county tree, that it would 
be in vain for any but a true Celt to attempt to 
f ollow her. 

Mary again tried to lead her back to the subject 



314 MÂBRIAG& 

of the Lennaxes, in hopes of being able to extract 
some fipark of knowledge from the dark chaos of her 
braîiL 

''Oh, Fm sure, Mary, if you want to hear abont 
that^ I can tell you plenty about the Lennoxes; or 
at any rate about the Maclaughlans, whioh is the 
flame l^ing. Bat I mnst first find my huswifa" 

To save Miss Orizzy's réminiscences, a f ew words 
will suffîce to dear up the mystery. A f amily f eud oi 
remote origin had long subsisted between the f arniHes 
of Lennox and Maclaughlan, whieh had been carefolly 
transmitted firom father to son, till the hereditary 
brand had been deposîted in the breast of ^ Samp- 
son. By the death of many intervening hoirs General 
Lennox^ then a yonth, was next in saecession to the 
Maclanghlan estate; bat the power of atienating it 
was vested in Sir Sampson, as the last remaining heir 
of thé éntaîL By the mistaken aeal of theîr friends 
both were, at an early period, placed in the same 
régiment, in the hope that constant association to- 
gether wonld quickly destroy their mntnal préjudices, 
and produce a reconciliation. But the inequalities 
were too great ever to assimilate. Sir Sampson pos- 
sessed a large fortune, a def ormed peison, and a weak, 
vain, irritable mind. General (then Ensign) Lennox 
had no other patrimony than his eword — ^a bandsome 
person. high spirit, id dauntless coarage. Wilh 
thèse tempers, it may easily be conœiyed that a 
thousand trifling events occurred to keep alive the 
hereditaiy animosity. Sir Sampson's vain, narrow 



MARRIAGIL 815 

mînd ezpeeted from his poor kinsman a degree of 
déférence and respect wliich the other, so far from 
rendering, rather sought opportunities of showing his 
contempt for, and of thwartîng and rîdiculing him 
upon every occasion, till Sir Sampson was obliged to 
quit the régiment From that time it was understood 
that ail bearing the uame of Lennox were for ever 
excluded from the éuccessîon to the Maclaughlan 
estâtes; and it was deemed a sort of petty treason 
even to name the name of a Lennox in présence of 
thîs dignified chieftain. 

Many years had wom away, and Sir Sampson had 
passed through the varions modifications of human 
nature^ from the " mewling infant" to " mère oblivion," 
withoat haying become either wiser or better. His 
mind remaîned the same — irascible and vindictive to 
the last. Lady Maclaughlan had too much sensé to 
attempt to reason or argue him eut of his préjudices^ 
but she contrived to prevent him from ever executing 
a new entaiL She had known and esteemed both 
General and Mrs. Lennox bef ore her marriage with 
Sir Sampson, and she was too firm and decided in her 
prédilections ever to abandon them; and while she 
had the crédit of sharing in ail her husband's ani- 
mosity, she was silently protecting the lawful rights 
of those who had long ceased to consider them as 
suck General Lennox had always understood that 
he and his f amily were under Sir Sampson's hm, and 
he possessed too high a spirit ever to express a regret^ 
or even allude to the circumstance& It had theref or« 



316 IIÂRRIAGE. 

made a very faint impression on the minds of any of 
his family, and in the long lapse of years had been 
almost f orgot by Mrs. Lennox, till recalled by Lady 
Maclaughlan's letter. But she had been silent on the 
subject to Mary ; for she could not conceal from her- 
self that her husband had been to blâme — ^that the 
beat and violence of his temper had often led him to 
provoke and exasperate where mildness and forbear- 
ance would bave soothed and conciliated, without 
detracting from his dignity; but her gentle heart 
shrank from the task of unnecessarily disclosing the 
faults of the man she had loved ; and when she heard 
Mary talk with rapture of the wild beauties of Loch- 
marlie, she had only sighed to think that the pride 
and préjudice of others had alienated the inheritance 
of her soa 

But ail this Mary was still in ignorance o^ for 
Miss Grizzy had gone completely astray in the attempt 
to trace the rise and progress of the Lennox and Mac- 
laughlan f eud. Happily Lady Maclaughlan's entrance 
extricated her from her labyrinth, as it was the signal 
for her to repair to Sir Sampson. Mary, in some little 
confusion, was beginning to express to her Ladyship 
her regret at hearing that Sir Sampson had been so 
unwell, when she was stopped. 

" My dear child, don't leam to tell lies. You don't 
care twopence for Sir Sampson. I know alL You 
are goîng to be married to Charles Lennox. l'm glad 
of ît I wished you to marry him. Whether you'll 
thank me for that twenty years hence, / can't tell— 




ICABBIAGX. 817 

ffou can*t tén — hs can't tell — God knows — humpli ! 
Tour aunts will tell you he is Beelzebub, because his 
father said he could make a Sir Sampson out of a 
moiildj lemon. Ferhaps he could. I don't know — 
bat your aunts are f 00I& You know what f ools are, 
and 80 do I There are plenty of f ools in the world ; 
but if they had not been sent for some wise puipose 
they wouldn't hâve been hère; and sînce they are 
hère they hâve as good a nght to hâve elbow-room in 
the world as the wisest Sir Sampson hated General 
Lennox because he laughed at him ; and if Sir Samp- 
son had lived a hundred years ago, his hatred might 
hâve been a fine thing to talk about now. It is the 
saine passion that makes heroes of your De Montf orts, 
and your Manuels, and your Corsairs, and ail the rest 
of them ; but they wore cloaks and daggers, and thèse 
are the supporters of hatred. Everybody laughs at 
the hatred of a little old man in a cocked hat You 
may laugh too. So now, God bless you ! Continue 
as you are, and marry the man you like, though the 
world should set its teeth against you. Tis not every 
woman can be trusted to do that — ^farewell 1" And 
with a cordial salute they parted. 

Mary was too well accustomed to Lady Maclaugh- 
lan's style not to comprehend that her marriage with 
Colonel Lennox was an event she had long wished for 
and now most warmly sanctioned ; and ôhe hastened 
home to convey the glad tidings in a letter to her 
aunts, though doubtful if the truth itself would be 
able to pierce its way through their prejudicea 



318 ICABBIAGB. 

Another stroke of palsy soon rendered Sir Sampson 
unconscious even to the charms of Grîzzy's conversa- 
tion, and as she was no longer of use to him, and was 
evidently at a loss how to employ hersel^ Mary pro- 
posed that she should accompany her back to Loch- 
marlie, to which she yielded a joyful assent Once 
convinced of Lady Maclaughlan's approbation of her 
niece's marriage she could think and talk of nothing 
elsa 

Some wise individuals haye thought that most 
people act from the inspiration of either a good or 
an evil power : to which class Miss Grizzy belonged 
would hâve pnzzled the most profound metaphysician 
to détermina She was, in fact^ a Maclaughlanite ; 
but to find the root of Maclaughian îs another difficulty 
— ^thought is lost 

Colonel Lennoz, although a little startled at his 
first introduction to his future aunt^ soon came to 
understand the ndiodé of her character ; and his en- 
larged mind and good temper made such ample allow- 
ance for her weaknesses, that she protested, with tears 
in her eyes, she never knew the like of hîm — she 
never could think enough of him. She wished to 
goodness Sir Sampson was himself again, and could 
only see him; she was sure he would think just as she 
did, eta etc. eta 

The day of Lady Emil/s marriage arrived, and 
found her in a more serions mood than she had 
hitherto appeared in; though it seemed doubtfid 
whether it waa most occasioned by her own prospect 




HABBIÂGB. 819 

or the thoughts of parting with Mary, who wîth Aunt 
Grizzy, was to set off for Lochmarlie immediately 
after witnessing the ceremony. Edward and his bride 
would faîn hâve accompanied her; but Lord Court- 
land was too mucb accustomed to his daughter and 
amused by his nephew to bear their absence, and they 
therefore yielded the point, though with reluctance. 

^'This is ail for want of a little opposition to hâve 
braced my nerves/' saîd Lady Emily, as she dropped 
a few tears. "I verily believe I should hâve wept 
outright had I not happily descried Dr. Eedgill 
slii^ggîiig lus shoulders at me ; that has given a fillip 
to my spirits. After ail, 'tis perhaps a f oolish action 
Fve committed. The icy bonds of matrimony are 
upon me àbready ; I f eel myseH tuming into a fond, 
faithf ul, rational, humble, meek-spirited wife I Alas ! 
I must now tum my head into a muséum, and hang 
up ail my smart siiyings inàde my brain, there to 
petrif y, as wamings to ail pert misses. Dear Mary ! 
l evi I am gooi for an^ng, it will be to yoJl 
oweit!" 

Mary could only embrace her cousin in silence, as 
she parted £rom her brother and her with the deepest 
émotion, and, assisted by Colonel Lennox (who was 
to f oUow), took her station by the side of her aunt. 

" I wish you a pleasant joumey, Miss Mary," cried 
Dr. BedgilL *'The game season is coming on, and 

^* But the carriage drove oflF, and the rest of the 

sentence was dispersed by the wind; and ail that 
could be collected was, *^ grouse always acceptable-* 



320 UAXBJÀffS, 

friends at a distance — ^roebuck stuffed witih heather 
cames well at ail tîmes," etc. etc. 

To one less practised in her ways, and less gifted 
TFith patience, the etemal babbling of Âtint Orîzzy as 
a travelling companion would bave occasîoned con- 
sidérable ennui, if not spleen. There are perhaps few 
greater trials of temper than that of travelling with a 
person who thinks it necessary to be adwdy pleasarU, 
without a moment's intermission, from the rising till 
the setting sun. Grizzy was upon this fatal plan, the 
rock of thousands ! Silence she thought synonymons 
mth low spirits ; and she talked, and wondered, and 
exdaimed incessantly, and assured Mary she need not 
be uneasy, she was certain Colonel Lennoz wonld 
follow very soon ; she had not the least doubt of that 
She would not be surprised if he was to be at Loch- 
marlie àhnost as soon as themselves ; at any rate veiy 
soon after them. * 

But even thèse little torments were f orgot by Maiy 
when she f ound herself again in her native land. The 
hills, the air, the waters, the people, even the peat- 
stackSy had a charm that touched her heart, and 
brought tears into her eyes as they pictured home. 
But her feelings arose to rapture when Lochmarlie 
buist upon her view in ail the grandeur, beauty, and 
repose of a settdng aun, diedding its fareweU raya of 
gold and purple, and tints of such matchless hue, as 
no pencil ère can imitate — ^no poet's pen describei 
Bocks, woods, hills, and waters, ail shone with a 
radiance that seemed of more than earthly beauty. 



MABRIAGE. 321 

"Oh, there are moments in life, keen, blîssful, never 
to be forgotten !" and such was the moment to Mary 
when the carnage stopped, and she again heard the 
melody of that voîce familîar from înfancy — and 
looked on the face known with her being — and was 
pressed to that heart where glowed a parent's love ! 

When Mary recovered from the first abnost agonis- 
vng transports of joy, she marked with delight the 
increased animation and cheerfulness visible in Mrs. 
Douglas. Âll the livelier feelings of her warm heart 
had indeed been excited and brought into action by 
the spirit and playfulness of her little boy, and the 
increased happîness of her husband ; while ail her t 
uneasiness respecting her former lover was now at \ 
an end. She had heard from himself that he had \ 
married, and was happy. Without being guilty of - . 
inconstancy, such are the effects of time upon mut- 
able human nature ! 

Colonel Lennox lost no time in airiving to claim 
his promised bride ; and Mar/s happiness was com- 
plète when she found her own choice so warmly 
approved of by the friends she loved. 

The three aunts and their unmarried nièces, now 
the sole inhabitants of Glenfem Castle, were not 
quite decided in their opinions at first Miss Jacky 
looked with a suspicions eye upon the mortai enemy of 
the Madaughian race; but, upon better acquaintance, 
his gaiety and good-humour contrived to charm asleep 
even her good sensé and préjudices, and she pro- 
nounced him to be a pleasant, well-informed young 

VOL. IL Y M 






322 MABBIAGK 

man, who gave himself no airs» although he eertaînly 
had rather a high look 

Nicky doubted, from his appearance, that he would 
be nice, and she had no patience wîth nice men ; but 
Nicky's fears vanished when she saw, as she ezpressed 
it, "how pleasantly he ate the sheep's head, although 
he had never seen one in his life before." 

The younger ladies thought Oaptain M'Nab had 
a finer complexion, and wondered whether Colonel 
Lennoz (like him) would be dressed in f ull regiment- 
als, at his marriage. 

Bat, alas ! " ail earthly good still blends itself with 
hann," for on the day of Mar/s ïnarriage — a day oon- 
secrated to mirth, and brideH^ake, and wedding f avours, 
and marriage présents, and good cheer, and réels, and 
revelry, and bagpipes — on that veiy day, when the 
marriage ceremony was scarcely over, arrived the 
accounts of the death of Sir Sampson Maclaughlan ! 
Bat on this joyous day even Grizzy's tears did not 
flow 80 freely as they would hâve done at anoth^ 
time; and she declared that although it was im- 
possible anybody could feel more than she did, yet 
certaînly it would not be using Colonel and Mrs. 
Lennoz well to be very distressed upon such an ooca- 
sion; and there was no doubt but she would hâve 
plenty of time to be sorry about it yet, when they 
were ail sitting quietly by thernselves, with nothing 
else in their heads; though, to be sure, they must 
always think what a blessing it was that Colonel 
Lennox was to succeed 




3fAKEIAG!B. S23 

^I wish he may ever fill Sir Sampson's sboes!" 
said Miss Nicky, with a sîgh. 

'* Colonel Lennox cannot propose a botter model 
to faimself than Sir Sampson Maclaughlan/' said Miss 
Jaoky. *^ He bas left bim a noble example of pro- 
priety, frugality, bospitality, and respectabiHty ; and, 
above ail, of forgiveness of bis mortal 6nemie&" 

" Ob, Mary !" exclaimed Miss Grîz^, as tbey were 
about to part witb tbeir nièce, " wbat a lucky créa- 
ture you axe ! Never, I am sure, did any young per- 
son set out in lif e witb sucb advantages. To think 
of your succeeding to Lady Maclaugblan's laboratory, 
aU so nicely fitted up witb every kind of tbing, and 
especially plenty of tbe most cbarming bark, wbicb, 
Tm sure, will do Colonel Lennox tbe greatest good, 
as you know ail offîcers are mucb tbe botter of bark. 
I know it was the saving of young BallingaU's life, 
wben be came borne in an ague from some place ; and 
Fm certain Lady Maclaugblan will leave you every- 
tbing tbat is tbere, you was always sucb a favourite. 
Not but wbat I must always tbink tbat you bad a 
hand in dear Sir Sampson's deatb Indeed, I bave 
no doubt of it Yet, at tbe same time, I don't mean 
to blâme you in tbe least; for Tm certain, if Sir 
Sampson bad been spared, be would baye been de- 
ligbted, as we ail are, at your marriage." 

Colonel and Mrs. Lennox agreed in making cboice 
of Locbmarlie for tbeir future résidence: and in a 
virtaous attadiment they found as nmch happinesa 
as earth's pilgrims ever possess, whose greatest f eUdty 



324 KABRIA6E. 

must spring from a higher source. The extensÎTe in- 
fluence which generally attends upon virtue joined to 
prosperity was used by them for its best puiposea. 
It was not confined either to rich or poor, to caste or 
sect; but ail shared in their benevolence whom that 
beneyolence could benefit And the poor, the sick, 
and the desolate, unîted in blessing what heaven had 
already blessed — this happy Marriaga 



XHB ENa 



UNIV. C 



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